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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187058">All I Have</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahitianmangoes/pseuds/tahitianmangoes'>tahitianmangoes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Chaptered, Dark, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Underage, Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:40:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>44,839</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187058</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahitianmangoes/pseuds/tahitianmangoes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The world had pushed Arthur and Dutch together, two lonely souls who needed to find a home and had found salvation in each other until each was all the other had. </p><p>From the day Dutch had found Arthur, scared and alone to now, enraptured and dependent and Dutch too, so lonely and starved of love that he gave it all to Arthur in the only way he knew how, no matter how damaging...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde, past!Vandermatthews</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>206</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. What We Do in the Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! This is my first fic here and with rdr2. I hope if you read it, you'll enjoy it!</p><p>I can't get enough of Dutch and Arthur so this will be chaptered and while I'm cooped up at home (read as "working from home") I have much more time on my hands to get all my ideas down.<br/>The origin of Dutch and Arthur truly fascinates me! For me, Dutch is a manipulator but the more I look and play and read about Dutch, the more I feel like I understand him. There's definitely more to everything than meets the eye!</p><p>Ok, let's get to it.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“He’s gone, Arthur. I’m your daddy now and I ain’t ever gonna hurt you.”</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last week or so had been a blur to Sadie. She scarcely remembered her time at Colter between sobbing in sorrow and restless sleep with unsettling dreams - memories of those O’Driscoll boys and her dear Jake… When they reached Horseshoe Overlook, she sat dazed in the tent with Mary-Beth and Tilly for what seemed like days. Everyone was kind enough, tiptoeing around her and asking if there was anything they could do for her. There was nothing anyone could do now.  </p><p>But she was thankful, thankful to Dutch for taking her with them because she didn’t know how she’d have survived alone in the storm or what the O’Driscolls would have done to her otherwise.<br/>
Dutch was a handsome man, tall with dark hair and even darker eyes. It was hard not to become enamoured with him and Sadie could see that almost everyone in the camp most definitely was; perhaps not Hosea who seemed weary of Dutch’s silver tongue nowadays but the others hung off his every word, like a prophet sent from God. Maybe that’s what they thought he was.</p><p>“So what’s the deal with you and him?” Sadie asked Arthur one night as the pair of them sat around the campfire together. She hadn’t spoken to Arthur much, he was the silent type. She’d watched him as he gazed up at the sky some nights or into the fire, lost in his own thoughts. He was handsome too, in a more rugged way than Dutch. He had sandy coloured hair that fell into his eyes when he didn’t wear his hat. She thought Arthur seemed troubled, he always seemed so sad. His kind, watery blue eyes always looked pained. Not that he would say so, he hardly said a word to anyone, apart from Dutch.<br/>
“There’s no deal.” Arthur replied almost coldly.<br/>
“I just thought, well, ya both seem so close.”<br/>
Arthur shrugged. “We are. Were. I guess it’s complicated.”<br/>
“How so?”<br/>
Arthur shook his head, not once looking at Sadie, as if dismissing a bad thought. “I better get back to it,” he murmured and rose from where he sat and walked away, across the camp towards the horses. Sadie noticed that Dutch, who was leaning against his tent pole watched Arthur walk away too, eyes unwavering even when Arthur was consumed by the darkness of the night, as if he were the only one in the camp.</p><p>Susan took Arthur’s seat. “You’ll soon find that this ain’t your ordinary camp, Mrs Adler.” She said to her, smirking slightly as she did so.<br/>
Sadie nodded. “You can say that again,” she muttered to herself. She turned her eyes to Susan now. Susan Grimshaw was older than the other women in the camp, the matriarch Sadie figured. She wasn’t pretty by any means, her lips were thin, deep wrinkles around her eyes and her dark hair always up in a matronly bun but what she didn’t have in looks she made up for in wit, humour, sass and caring. Sadie liked Susan.<br/>
“What’s with them two, then?” Sadie asked, “Mr Morgan and Dutch. They seem.... Different.” Sadie wondered why no one ever referred to Dutch as Mr Van der Linde.<br/>
“Oh, they are, Mrs Adler.” Susan said, “but I don’t know if it’s my place to say it. Plenty of folk round here run their mouths, plenty of them prepared to say how they see things but not what things actually are.”<br/>
“Well what are they?”<br/>
Susan shrugged a little, “it’s not my place to say, Mrs Adler.”</p><p>Sadie disliked how people talked in riddles around here. Sadie was very much a black or white kind of woman. Either something is or it isn’t. Maybe her time with the Van der Linde gang would change that.</p><p>Sadie resented Susan’s answer because she of all people seemed to run her mouth; she ran her mouth about the other women in the camp not pulling their weight, especially Miss Karen and Miss Molly. Susan ran her mouth about some Mary Linton woman that Arthur seemed to have been sweet on a long time ago. But she wouldn’t talk about Arthur and Dutch. Probably a loyalty thing - Sadie had realised soon on that loyalty was a big issue in the gang. Dutch talked about it a lot.</p><p>A few nights after Sadie had asked Susan about Dutch and Arthur’s relationship, she got her answer. People were eating and chatting but she saw them exchanging words towards the back of the camp near Arthur’s tent. She couldn’t make out what was said exactly but it looked heated. Arthur went to leave but Dutch stopped him, stepping in his path. He then pulled Arthur into an embrace that seemed too long, too passionate to be friendly. The pair looked each other in the eyes when they pulled away, Dutch touched Arthur’s cheek tenderly and Arthur didn’t shy away, almost melting into Dutch’s ringed fingers. Then Dutch walked back towards his own tent. Arthur’s face was unreadable, hidden beneath the brim of his hat, a mixture of too many emotions. Later that night, when most people were asleep, Arthur went into Dutch’s tent and didn’t come back out until morning. </p><p>Sadie would soon come to realise that if there was talk of it, it was rare. If Arthur went to Dutch’s tent at night, sometimes Javier would play guitar to cover any noises; it was never pornographic or obscene but there was no mistake in what was happening in there.<br/>
“Some folk don’t question it,” Hosea said to her when he caught her watching Arthur and Dutch again one night. They’d both been drinking and it was the first time Sadie had seen Arthur smile in over a month - his face lit up something beautiful. Dutch was making jokes and reminiscing with Arthur, a hand subtly, yet firmly on Arthur’s thigh.<br/>
“They figure it ain’t their business to be pokin’ their nose in, ‘specially after Dutch took ‘em in. Most of ‘em are just grateful.” Hosea continued.<br/>
“Oh, I’m grateful, Mr Matthews.” Sadie said hastily.<br/>
Hosea chuckled, “I know, Mrs Adler. And I know you’re not really one for prying into other people’s business but I understand that it’s a little different to what you mighta seen elsewhere.”<br/>
Sadie nodded in agreement.</p><p>Not everyone was so inconspicuous about their curiosities or feelings towards the pair. Molly O’Shea sure as hell didn’t like it. Her usually composed, heavily made up face was like thunder when she had to sleep alongside the other women. Susan put it down to Molly thinking she was better than everyone else and not wanting to slum it like the rest of them - too used to a soft bed to sleep on at night said Susan. But Sadie wasn’t so certain. If her husband had dismissed her like a dog from their bedroom in favour of a man, she’d be pissed off, too. </p><p>When Micah had first joined, he confronted Dutch outright.<br/>
“Are you some kinda deviant?” He asked sneeringly. “I never had you down as queer, Dutch. I know what you and ol’ Cowpoke get up to.”<br/>
“And so do the other folk around here,” Dutch growled, “I scammed folks, I robbed folks and I killed ‘em. We all have, Mr Bell. And if you think that layin’ with another man is any worse than any o’ those things then maybe this ain’t the place for you!”<br/>
Micah looked at Dutch silently, maybe thinking about what to say next. Dutch’s gaze was menacing and steadfast. Micah eventually looked away then walked off to lick his wounds. No one talked about it frankly because there were bigger problems to deal with than who Dutch went to bed with at night. </p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>When Arthur first joined Dutch and Hosea when he was just fourteen, he’d wake up in the night screaming from awful dreams. Night terrors, the doctor in town said they were.<br/>
“Must’ve suffered some trauma when he was younger,” he told Dutch and Hosea.<br/>
Dutch looked at Arthur who was sitting in the doctor’s chair, head down, ashamed. He knew the boy was troubled, knew that he hadn’t had the easiest of lives even at his young age. He hadn’t pressed Arthur too much and could only guess what the traumas were.</p><p>Some nights Arthur wouldn’t wake. He’d shout then be still again. Other times, he’d wake and Dutch could hear him sobbing quietly to himself.<br/>
That night, Dutch was awoken by Arthur’s voice from the tent beside his: “please don’t!” Arthur begged. “No! No!”<br/>
Dutch swung his legs out of his cot and went to Arthur, the darkness of Arthur’s tent only broken by a small lantern that Arthur kept by his bedroll for fear of the blackness. He could see movement, Arthur’s  legs kicked as he cried out,  “don’t! Please! I’m sorry! I’ll do better! I swear!”<br/>
Dutch shook him,“Arthur! Arthut wake up!”<br/>
Arthur’s eyes snapped open but couldn’t focus. He was still garbling apologies and thrashing on his bedroll like he was possessed. Dutch shook him again, fearful that something had taken him over.<br/>
“Arthur, son… It’s me. It’s Dutch.”<br/>
Arthur’s eyes focused, the haze of sleep evaporating and he saw Dutch kneeling over him, raven black hair tousled and falling into his face, dark eyes swimming with concern. Arthur was panting, his neck slicked wet with sweat and his union shirt was soaking. He stilled and caught his breath.<br/>
“You were hollerin’” Dutch said gently, “scared the life outta me, I thought we were being attacked.”<br/>
“S-sorry Dutch.” Arthur stammered. “I was dreamin’, I think.”<br/>
“It’s ok, my boy.”</p><p>Dutch sat beside Arthur properly. “You’re sodden, Arthur.” He said, reaching out to touch the boy’s shoulder. “Change into something dry or you’ll freeze to death.”<br/>
Arthur turned his back to Dutch and struggled out of his union shirt and into his spare one which used to be Hosea’s - it was slightly too short at the ankles and wrists. Dutch watched, drinking in the sight of Arthur’s pale, soft skin in the lantern light. He looked away when Arthur glanced over his shoulder and caught Dutch watching.<br/>
Arthur sat back down, a few buttons still open on the shirt where Dutch could see his skin glistening from the sweat.<br/>
“I’m sorry, Dutch.” Arthur said again, “I didn’t mean to wake y’up. I get these dreams… They feel so real.” Dutch nodded. “My daddy… He was a bad man. He drank every day and beat on me real bad… He’d use his belt or whatever he could lay his hands on and beat me until I couldn’t get up no more… Sometimes he’d burn cigarettes on me. He’d make me bleed and it wouldn’t stop.”  He was looking down as he spoke. Dutch heard a knot in his throat. “I couldn’t fight back. I couldn’t stop him. I wasn’t strong enough.” Arthur said, his voice a whisper. His narrow shoulders shook and Dutch knew he was stifling tears. “I see my daddy in my dreams and it feels so real..!”<br/>
Dutch felt consumed by his feelings that swirled in his stomach - anger that someone had harmed Arthur and the overwhelming need to protect him. He wanted to swoop down and scoop him from where he lay, to hold him and take his pain away but he didn’t know how.<br/>
Instead, he  lifted Arthur's chin so he was looking him in the face. Arthur’s eyes shimmered with tears and his lips were tight, fighting those tears back<br/>
“He’s gone, Arthur. I’m your daddy now and I ain’t ever gonna hurt you.”<br/>
Arthur’s lips formed a small smile, probably the first smile he’d shown since running with Dutch and Hosea. Dutch felt his chest tighten and he swallowed.<br/>
“I should go back to my tent now,” he said, “now that you’re ok.”<br/>
“Ok.” Arthur said after a short pause. He looked disappointed to see Dutch go. Dutch didn’t want to leave either.</p><p>The next night, Arthur sneaked across to Dutch’s tent after dark. Dutch was still awake and fully dressed. He looked up when Arthur entered but somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see him.<br/>
“Son?”<br/>
“C-can I sleep with you?” Arthur asked shyly, “I feel… safe with you.”<br/>
“Of course, son.”<br/>
Arthur slid into Dutch’s cot and curled up with his back to Dutch. Dutch felt his chest twist again, his heart beat irregularly and were his palms shaking? He gripped the book he’d been reading as if to force these feelings away.<br/>
He heard Arthur’s breath deepen after a short while, his small body beneath the blanket seemed so peaceful. Dutch waited longer than usual before going to bed himself. He stared at Arthur for what felt like hours; the boy twitched and mumbled in his sleep, making soft sounds here and there. It wasn’t just Dutch’s chest that was stirring but he did his best not to address it, he felt an awful sense of dread, like something terrible would happen if he did.<br/>
Eventually, he lay beside Arthur, he didn’t undress or get under the blanket. Arthur stirred and rolled over to face Dutch, this time curling into him and sighing before drifting back to sleep. </p><p>“Did I see Arthur in your cot this morning?” Hosea asked the next day when they were tending to the horses while Arthur fetched water for their small camp.<br/>
“The boy was afraid,” Dutch said matter of factly, “he gets nightmares and it’s no wonder after what he’s been through.”<br/>
And that was that. Most nights, Arthur would sleep with Dutch. Hosea didn’t know when it became sexual and it had been going on for so long, did it really matter anymore?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Devoted Little Lambs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“You sure are interested in Arthur Morgan, Mrs Adler.” He said, “but I warn you, he’s a complicated man. He might not look it, but he is. He’s got a heart full o’ pain and that made him angry for a long time. Sure, Dutch found ways to channel it for him when he was younger but now… Now I fear it’s consuming him.”</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi!<br/>I'm so thankful to everyone who commented and gave kudos yesterday - you're all brilliant. As I promised on my tumblr, here is the next chapter! </p><p>Please continue to support me, it makes me so happy to know that people appreciate the story so far &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn’t just Sadie that noticed that now Dutch was in a good mood, he’d treat Arthur differently. There were less tense silences between them, like a heavy weight had been lifted from the entire camp and no one had to walk around on eggshells in case they upset Dutch anymore. It also wasn’t just Sadie who noticed that Dutch had become more affectionate towards Arthur now he was happier; he would slip his arm casually around Arthur’s waist as he spoke to him, telling him loudly how special he was and that he was the best of them all.<br/>
Arthur couldn’t pretend that he didn’t feel a swell of pride at this.<br/>
As much as he hadn’t wanted to, he had gone to free Micah from the jail in Strawberry. If it had been up to Arthur, he’d have left Micah there to rot but Dutch had asked him and Dutch always got what he wanted.</p><p>Dutch had made a fuss of Arthur upon his return, a huge gunfight had broken out and Arthur hadn’t escaped unscathed. He had blood on his shirt and he’d been grazed by a couple of bullets; his shoulder and face.<br/>
“Arthur, are you ok my boy?” Dutch asked, sounding concerned, “are you hurt?” He touched Arthur’s face gently in front of everyone.<br/>
“It’s just a scratch,” Arthur mumbled, almost acting shy.<br/>
When they were alone, Dutch was tender, kissing him deep and slow, as if savouring Arthur’s taste. He caressed Arthur’s face lovingly, paying special attention to under his eye where he had got the cut from the gunfight; he was lucky he wasn't wearing an eyepatch now.<br/>
“You’re such a good boy for me, Arthur,” Dutch breathed, tugging Arthur’s head back so he could kiss along his stubbled jawline and bite down on his neck because he knew Arthur liked that.<br/>
It sent a shiver the length of Arthur’s spine and Arthur let out a sigh that he felt he had been holding onto forever. Dutch hadn't kissed him like this since Blackwater. Everything had changed so quickly and more things had gone wrong than right, Arthur was worried Dutch would never be like this with him again. Time together with Dutch like this was becoming more and more rare. Arthur often found himself wondering if he could change that? If he did what Dutch wanted, if he was better, then maybe it could be how it used to be. </p><p>He liked it when Dutch doted on him, of course he did. Gone were the days when he had Dutch’s undivided attention, now he had to contend with a group of people but the way Sadie saw it, no one was vying for Dutch’s approval more than Arthur. </p><p>“Things are changing,” Hosea said one night around the campfire. It was just him, Sadie and Lenny. Sadie thought Lenny was a good kid, just nineteen years old with a baby face but wisdom beyond his years.<br/>
Arthur and Dutch had slipped off together which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Molly who then caused an argument with Karen who had slapped her so hard across the face that the sound echoed like a gunshot around the camp.<br/>
The mood in camp was strange. While some people were sad, others were happy - a few days ago,  Javier, Charles and Arthur had rescued Sean who was still being held in Blackwater. The young Irishman breathed fresh life into the camp. And now there was news of Micah being freed, it seemed like things were getting better. </p><p>“We wasn’t always like this, killin’ people and robbin’ them for the sake of it…” Hosea said to Lenny. The pair had become close recently and would talk well into the night until the morning song birds would begin to chirp. “Dutch read somethin’ or other about a man called Robin Hood from someplace in England. He stole from the rich and gave to the poor.”<br/>
“Sounds like a fine man, “Lenny said.<br/>
Hosea shrugged, “some folks say he was just a legend, others swear he existed. Either way, he certainly caught Dutch’s attention. So that’s what we did - we robbed from banks and gave the money to the poorest of folks.”<br/>
“What changed?” Lenny asked<br/>
Hosea paused before answering. “I guess we did. Dutch did. We kept gettin’ more mouths to feed and money wasn’t easy to come by… We started taking a bigger cut - less to hand out to the needy… And then, before we knew it, the whole cut belonged to the gang. Dutch would always keep it safe. His ideology changed. It used to be one for all and all for one but now…” Hosea shrugged, “I’m not even sure I know.”<br/>
Lenny sighed and looked forlorn. “I like Mr Dutch and Mr Arthur,” he said. “I believe what Mr Dutch says, about there being a better life out there for us somewhere. Hell, if it weren’t for him, I’d have been lynched a long time ago. I’m grateful.”<br/>
“We’re all grateful…” Hosea said quietly but Sadie couldn’t help but notice the jadedness of his tone.<br/>
Lenny said goodnight and left the fire. Sadie was sitting alone with Hosea again.</p><p>“How long y’all been running together, then?” She asked.<br/>
“Oh, a long time, Mrs Adler. 20 years or more.” Hosea smiled fondly as he spoke, remembering. “Different times.”<br/>
“Arthur couldn’ta been more than a boy then,” Sadie said more to herself than Hosea.</p><p>Hosea nodded, “he was. Orphaned. Mother died when he was young and his father turned to drink - blamed the boy for her death. He was a vile man by the sounds of things - would beat Arthur until he was unconscious. He was a crook, too. Eventually that saw him swing and Arthur was left to fend for himself. He was just eleven years old -that’s no life for a boy that age. We met him when he had just turned fourteen, me and Dutch had been together a few years by then… Some reason, Dutch couldn’t leave Arthur. I said we couldn’t take every orphaned kid we saw but Dutch said he saw something in him. Scrawny little thing he was,” Hosea laughed, “thin as a rake and lanky. Fed him up we did, taught him to read - Dutch loved to read to him so he did. And we taught him how to shoot and hunt, soon he wasn’t so shy no more and we robbed our first bank when he was around twenty or so.”<br/>
Hosea stopped and looked at Sadie<br/>
“You sure are interested in Arthur Morgan, Mrs Adler.” He said, “but I warn you, he’s a complicated man. He might not look it, but he is. He’s got a heart full o’ pain and that made him angry for a long time. Sure, Dutch found ways to channel it for him when he was younger but now… Now I fear it’s consuming him.”<br/>
“I ain't interested like that,” Sadie said , “I just lost my husband, Mr Matthews. Ain’t no one ever gonna replace him.”<br/>
“Oh I hear you, Mrs Adler. I lost my Bessie long ago now. I drank for an entire year afterwards. If it weren’t for Dutch and Arthur I’d be in the ground with her.” </p><p>Hosea said goodnight and Sadie went back to the tent where the other women were already asleep. Sadie didn’t sleep though, she hardly did. She heard noises in the night and was worried O’Driscolls were coming for them even though she knew they wouldn’t make it over the threshold of the camp - she’d seen what everyone was capable of. And if anything, the sight of Susan Grimshaw brandishing a pump action shotgun would scare anyone away for sure. </p><p>She must have drifted off at some point because she was awoken by horse hooves and hushed voices.<br/>
“What are we gonna do, Dutch?” She heard Arthur asking.<br/>
“Nothing right now, my boy.”<br/>
“We can’t stay here forever.”<br/>
“And I know that. You just gotta give me time to figure things out. After Blackwater I’m just a little… Uninspired.”<br/>
She heard Arthur sigh, it sounded like they were standing close to her tent. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get us the money we need to get away from here, Dutch.”<br/>
“I know you will, son. You’re so good to me.”<br/>
Sadie couldn’t hear anything for a moment. She imagined Arthur gazing at Dutch in the way he did, like a puppy to its master - more like a lamb to slaughter…<br/>
“I…” Arthur said eventually but he couldn’t finish.<br/>
“I know, son.” Dutch replied.<br/>
Sadie heard them both walk their separate ways. She lay awake until the sun started to rise and cast shadows inside her tent. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about Arthur? About how sad he was… It made her sad too.</p><p> Hosea listened to it all too, he didn’t sleep much these days either. He’d been ill for a while. He put it down to old age. Whenever he coughed, Arthur or Dutch would rush to his side and ask if he was ok. It made him laugh. “Waiting for me to croak, are ya?” He’d ask, grinning.<br/>
“Don’t say that!” Arthur would reply, looking a mixture of horrified and heartbroken. He’d tell Arthur he was just joking but he knew he didn’t have much time left and part of him was ok with that.<br/>
Dutch had changed and Arthur was too enchanted by him to see. It didn’t surprise him, down beneath it all, even now Arthur was a grown man, to Hosea, he would always be a boy. He was a boy who desperately wanted nothing more than his daddy’s attention and love. He wanted to please him and be the apple of his eye. Even now. Dutch only had to say jump and Arthur would ask how high.<br/>
Hosea had seen Arthur grow from apprehensive, skinny boy, to an angsty and fiesty teenager through to the man he was now - devoted, no doubt about it but damaged. He wondered how much of a hand he and Dutch had in that...</p><p> </p><p>A few days had passed and in that time, Molly had got it into her head that Dutch was looking at Mary-Beth. The whole camp heard their rows. Dutch didn’t seem to care, he let Molly raise her voice and scream hysterically and would only raise an eyebrow in return, not giving her the satisfaction of his emotions. That seemed to make Molly worse.<br/>
Her jealousy of Arthur was no secret so when she saw Dutch fawning over him again and praising him, she couldn’t bear it.<br/>
Women came and went not just from Dutch’s life but Arthur’s too and at the end of it all, they still found their way back to each other. Molly knew she had a shelf life but did she really want to hang around and become the camp skivvy like Susan had? </p><p>Susan hadn’t been attached to Dutch, not like Molly was. She would follow him around the camp until he would reproachfully tell her to leave him to his thoughts.<br/>
One day, she plucked up the courage to tell him she loved him and without even looking up from the page of his book he replied simply, “thank you, dear.” As if she had just handed him a cigar.<br/>
She hadn’t shown him how that had destroyed her and ripped her heart in two; she realised that she was no different from Arthur in that respect. Dutch would never treat them in the way they deserved to be treated. The only difference was that Dutch would always go back to Arthur. Always. </p><p>“Dutch Van der Linde will fuck anything with a pulse”, Susan had said bitterly when she found Molly sobbing over him one day,  “sometimes, I don’t even think it needs a pulse.” Maybe she was bitter because she fell into the category of the many things that Dutch van der Linde had once fucked. </p><p> </p><p>An important thing that Sadie learned about Dutch and Arthur was that they didn’t fight, not like him and Molly. No, they fucked. Sure, it’d start as a fight. Dutch would make a sarcastic remark, Arthur would mock Dutch. It would brew for days, like watching storm clouds come towards you on open plains. They would raise their voices at each other and on a couple of occasions, even lay their hands on each other. Then the next thing either of them knew, they were kissing furiously, Dutch grabbing a fistful of Arthur’s hair while Arthur sunk to his knees to attend to Dutch’s throbbing cock.<br/>
Arthur got off on being controlled - this was the only part of his life that could be controlled… And Dutch loved to control people.</p><p>Arthur had been like Molly before. As he grew into his late teens and Dutch started taking on lovers, Arthur’s jealousy would boil over. He blew a gasket when  Susan was brought back to the camp as Dutch’s “lover”. He’d sit her on his  lap in front of everyone, in front of Arthur,  and he’d fondle her breasts while she giggled and squealed - like a pig Arthur thought. But Dutch soon got bored. Susan didn’t seem like she cared all that much. She was always kind to Arthur even though Arthur was cold to her. </p><p>Arthur was around sixteen or seventeen at the time, He had grown from timid and fearful to headstrong and argumentative, fueled by jealousy and teenage angst.<br/>
One night, when Dutch returned to their camp from a brothel in town, they had had a blazing row.<br/>
“I give you everything you want and it still ain’t enough for you!” Arthur had shouted. It must have been the first time he ever raised his voice to Dutch. Dutch was surprised but was never one to back down.<br/>
“Come on Arthur, don’t pretend that you thought we’d get married and live happily ever after!” Dutch roared back, “were you gonna wear a dress and make dinner for me every night?”<br/>
“You ain’t about marryin’ them whores!” Arthur snapped, “you only wanna fuck ‘em so how am I any different to that?”<br/>
Dutch’s eyebrows narrowed and he dropped his voice. He spoke slowly and deliberately yet somehow this was worse than the shouting, “you’re my boy, Arthur. You know that. But I ain’t gonna have you talkin’ to me like that or behavin’ in the manner you are.”<br/>
“Fuck you, Dutch.” Arthur spat, he shoved  Dutch and for a fleeting moment, he saw a dangerous flash in Dutch’s eyes. It simultaneously scared Arthur and turned him on.<br/>
“Say it again and see what happens.”<br/>
“Fuck. You. Dutch.”<br/>
Dutch grabbed Arthur by the throat and pinned him to a tree.  “Listen to me, boy.” He hissed, “I am more than generous with you and your goddamn moods. I am patient with you and I expect you to be grateful and if not grateful then at least have some goddamn respect!”<br/>
Arthur’s face had turned red, his feet were an inch or so off the ground, Dutch was strong, much stronger than Arthur. Arthur clawed at Dutch’s hand, he couldn’t breathe. He was reminded of his father who would choke him until he passed out. Tears began to spill down his cheeks.<br/>
“Don’t disobey me, Arthur.” Dutch growled. He let go of Arthur and Arthur sunk to the floor. He gasped for air, clutching his throat and coughing. </p><p>Dutch stood above him, panting, eyes wild in a way Arthur had never really seen before.<br/>
“Do you have respect for me, boy?” Dutch barked.<br/>
Arthur nodded.<br/>
“I can’t hear you, Arthur.”<br/>
“Yes.” Arthur managed to rasp.<br/>
“Yes what?” Dutch snarled.<br/>
“Yes, daddy.”<br/>
“That’s more like it.”<br/>
Dutch grabbed Arthur by the arm and wrenched him from the ground, twisting him around so now he was pushed face first into the tree.<br/>
“It looks like I have to teach you some manners, son.” Dutch said, “you seem to be forgetting yourself.”<br/>
He forced Arthur’s pants down violently and kicked his legs apart.<br/>
“Dutch!” Arther gasped, “someone will see us here!”<br/>
“Let them see what happens when you disrespect me, boy.” Dutch growled.</p><p>There was no prep. No kissing. Dutch slammed into Arthur without warning, it burned and tears slid from the corners of Arthur’s eyes with each thrust Dutch gave. Arthur squirmed against Dutch, yelping and coughing still.<br/>
He tried to push back against the tree so that the  tree bark wasn’t cutting into him so painfully  and so that he could take some control but Dutch wouldn’t be moved. His weight pressed behind Arthur and his hands held him in place; one hand on his shoulder, the other wrapped around his shirt.</p><p>“Don’t you ever forget yourself again, boy,” Dutch snapped, punctuated between thrusts and the sound of skin against skin. Dutch grunted as he came, only holding Arthur close to him until he had shot his load inside of him. Then he pulled out, buttoned  his pants back up and went back to his tent, leaving Arthur to crumple to the  floor, panting and shaking. </p><p>Arthur never forgot himself again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Saviour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Dutch wore an expression Arthur had never seen before that he didn’t recognise. A hunger? Like a wolf about to devour a deer whole.</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello again!<br/>I hope that you've been enjoying the story so far. Please give kudos or comments as I really appreciate it! Expect the next chapter on Sunday!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As quickly as things had felt like they were coming together, they felt like they were unravelling just as fast.<br/>
There’d been a shootout in the nearby town, Valentine, because Dutch had chosen to rob the wrong man. <i>Was there ever really a right man to rob?</i> Dutch gave the order to pack up and leave, something the gang was fast becoming accustomed to. They were gone within the day and had moved south to Clemens Point. </p><p>The new spot was more secluded than the last. Dutch said he liked it there but Arthur wasn’t so sure - it was hot as hell, making him tired and irritable. Too many mosquitos, too.  How could anyone live happily like this, he didn’t understand. Still, the warm air seemed to be doing Hosea some good as he wasn’t coughing nearly as often. Arthur felt relieved for that. He loved Dutch, of course he did in the special way they had but Hosea had acted more like a real father to him than Dutch had over the years and Hosea’s illness worried him something rotten.</p><p>During the first few days at Clemens Point, people complained and whined a lot. Arthur couldn’t take it so he disappeared for a few days riding back up to West Elizabeth, his favourite part of the east. He liked the lakes and rivers and waterfalls, liked the dense trees and smell of greenery. He even liked the elks calls that echoed off of the sides of the mountain where he had set up a small camp.</p><p>It gave him time to think. Arthur often said that he wasn’t a thinker because he wasn’t, not like Dutch or Lenny who could talk about books and philosophical theories until the sun began to rise. Arthur was a realist - he saw things and felt things and acted rawly upon them. It wasn’t always poetic, he didn’t have a way with words like Dutch did and that meant that sometimes, he came across as bullish and brash.<br/>
Arthur’s sort of thinking was different. He’d think about everything that he’d done and everything that he should have done. He thought about how things might have been different if he’d been a better person and he thought about how things could be if only they weren’t being chased by lawmen all the time.<br/>
Dutch didn’t mind the running. Arthur was certain that he enjoyed it. It was like a sport to Dutch. </p><p>Arthur’s camp was not too far from Little Creek River. He liked the sound of the water, he found it calming. He was secluded by trees and would jot down his thoughts in his jornal or draw flowers or deer. Sometimes he wished he could just do this. Sure, robbing trains was fun but he wondered if he was getting too old for it now. He found his mind wandering to Mary Linton and then to Eliza and baby Issac. He closed his eyes tight, not wanting to think about that, wishing he could shut that part of his life out, locking it away like he had done with so many other things that had happened to him. </p><p>He had met Mary not too long after Dutch had brought Susan to camp. Mary was a beautiful girl with dark hair and dark eyes; did Arthur have a type? Arthur was jealous and wanted to hurt Dutch just as much as he had hurt Arthur. He thought if he started seeing someone too, it would make Dutch realise that he needed Arthur. But something strange happened, Mary was good to be around. Arthur began to feel his heart flutter when he went to meet her and suddenly he felt at ease for the first time in his life, like he was a different person with her. <i>Happy.</i> So he proposed and she turned him down. He liked her and she liked him too but her daddy didn't like Arthur - saw him for what he had become, a dangerous outlaw. Deep down, he knew that he couldn't marry Mary, they were from different worlds and she had always been too good for him. Dutch had been right, you can't live happily ever after with this life. If anything happened to her because of him, he'd never forgive himself.</p><p>Their relationship was different from his and Dutch’s. She was gentle and soft. When they kissed, she'd breath <i> “oh Arthur”.</i>  It was less about dominance and submission and more about affection and care. But it was also less intense than him and Dutch. Did he prefer that? When he looked at Mary, there was no fire or burning passion. He felt calm, like watching the waves lap the shore. His thoughts didn't buzz and he was coherent, all the things he couldn't be with Dutch.</p><p>Arthur was dozing in the afternoon sunlight, hat over his face, dreaming of Mary - maybe they could have had a ranch together somewhere out west. Arthur had done some ranching when he was younger, mainly as a cover for scouting places that would be good robberies for him, Hosea and Dutch but he had learned how to herd cattle and break horses. It would definitely be a change of pace… Maybe that’s what he needed? But it was too late now… Mary had written to him last year to tell him that she’d married a man. Arthur had been so angry that he'd  torn the letter to shreds and burned it, something he deeply regretted now.</p><p>He heard hooves approaching and lifted his hat to see Charles riding towards him.<br/>
“There you are!” he called.<br/>
Charles sat beside Arthur at the fire and warmed himself. It had been a long ride. Arthur offered him some deer that he’d caught that morning and seasoned with wild sage.</p><p>If the camp didn't think Arthur knew that they would gossip about him and Dutch, they were delusional. He knew but he just acted like he didn't. Dutch would lose his cool though, maybe because that was one of his very few weaknesses : Arthur.<br/>
But Charles has never said a bad word about the situation.<br/>
“I just don't think it's right,” Mary-Beth had announced one time when Arthur was in his tent supposedly sleeping. “Two men like that..? It ain’t normal.”<br/>
“It's natural,” Charles had replied calmly. His voice was always low and gentle. “They're two people who care very deeply for one another… People are people and love is love.”<br/>
Mary-Beth was stunned into silence and didn’t know what to say in response.<br/>
Charles was a kind man. He was softly spoken but when he did speak, it was always with purpose and meaning.  He didn’t have to try to be kind, he just was. Arthur envied that about him. He had so many times tried to do the right thing only to have it quickly turn sour. He often thought that it was him, he was cursed from a young age… Even Dutch couldn’t save him. </p><p>“Dutch sent me to find you. He’s been very worried.” Charles said, looking into the fire as the deer cooked.<br/>
“Has he now?” Arthur said rhetorically.<br/>
“You know he has, Arthur.” Charles replied. Maybe Charles knew that Arthur sometimes did this to get a reaction from Dutch; to get attention. Arthur hated that this was how he was but he also hated feeling neglected and nothing more than a glorified errand boy for Dutch.<br/>
“He wants me to bring you back with me.” Charles said. It wasn’t open for debate, Arthur knew that so he sighed and kicked dirt onto the flames of his campfire and began to saddle up.</p><p>****</p><p>Sadie had taken to watching Dutch around the camp. She started asking herself why everyone was so enraptured by him. He paced like a caged lion most days, book or cigar in hand, dark brow furrowed, thinking. He did a lot of thinking.<br/>
He didn't talk much to Sadie at all. She guessed this was because maybe he knew that she wasn't like the others. She wasn't dumb or needy, not really. She could have left the camp any time. She didn't know why she didn't.</p><p>However, the more she listened to the stories of other people, the more she understood the devotion.</p><p>“Abigail used to be a whore,” Javier told Sadie one afternoon. His amber eyes twinkled deviously as he said it .<br/>
Sadie frowned and looked over at Abigail who was humming whilst mending Jack’s clothes.  “Surely not,” she said. Abigail came across as meek and mild mannered… Apart from when she argued with John.<br/>
“Oh yes.” Javier purred, his words seeped in his light accent, “I’m not afraid to tell you that she taught me a few things, Mrs Adler.”<br/>
Sadie rolled her eyes. Javier was a ladies man, flirting with anything that moved. He spent a lot of time preening, something Arthur would joke about but Javier didn’t care. He’d laugh and call Arthur <i>“puto.”</i><br/>
Javier shrugged and smirked at Sadie’s reaction. “Well, it’s a truth whether you believe it or not. John Marston’s girl was a whore and if it weren’t for Dutch, she’d probably be dead. She wasn’t always Marton’s girl though…” He mused, “I heard she and Mr Morgan were close for a while… Especially when John ran away…”</p><p>Sadie had heard this story before, another one from her and Hosea’s late night campfire talks. John had abandoned Abigail when Jack was born, denying he was the boy’s father. Hosea conceded that Abigail had slept with most of the men in camp, though it appeared she’d drawn a line at Uncle…. John had been gone for a long time before coming back with his tail between his legs.<br/>
“He needed us,” Hosea had said, “he’s a fool sometimes but he knows where his loyalties lie.”<br/>
Sadie didn’t know if she liked John. He was hot headed and came off stupid. Even Arthur would call him as dumb as sheep shit sometimes.</p><p>“And what’s your story, Mr Escuella?”<br/>
“I had to flee Mexico. I’m a revolutionary, just like Dutch.” Javier said proudly. “There’s a big price on my head. I can’t go back, even when I heard my mother died…. They would not only kill me but any remaining members I have if I went back… Dutch, he saved me. When I barely spoke English and was starving to death, he brought me back to camp with him and fed me and clothed me.”<br/>
Sadie could hear the love Javier had for Dutch sing out in each word he spoke. But there was something else, too. She had heard this phrase a lot now <i>“Dutch saved me.” </i><br/>
He saved Javier and Abigail. He’d saved Lenny, Mary-Beth, John and even Arthur. Was that why they loved him so much? Because they thought they owed him their lives? They were indebted to him.<br/>
When Sadie really thought about it, it was Dutch who saved her too. He was too late for Jake but had he not come when he had, had he not stopped Micah from attacking her, had he not pulled her from her burning home and draped his coat over her to keep her warm through the snowstorm and took her to Colter, she might have died too.<br/>
<i>“Sure, people are grateful,”</i> she remembered Hosea saying to Lenny not so long ago and maybe now she understood why he sounded so jaded. </p><p>“Dutch is a fine man, Mrs Adler.” Javier told her, as if he could see her thoughts.<br/>
“That he is,” Sadie said, agreeing out of appeasement more than anything else.<br/>
When she walked away from Javier, she had more questions than answers. Hosea had said that Dutch had changed. She couldn’t imagine him raising Arthur or John as his own sons. The man rarely raised a finger around camp and child rearing was one hell of a job even if the boys had been into their early teens when Dutch came across them. </p><p>“Who goes there?” Lenny called from the front of camp as horses hooves could be heard approaching.<br/>
“Charles and Arthur.” Came the reply.</p><p>Arthur had been gone for a week or more. Sadie had noticed that Dutch’s pacing had grown in that time. He seemed anxious. He’d asked after Arthur every day but most people shrugged. Sadie didn’t recall him saying anything to anyone, he left one morning without even saying goodbye. That pained look was back in his eyes though. </p><p>“I’ve seen you lookin’ at her again, Dutch.” Molly had accused him one day when she entered their tent.<br/>
“Who?” Came Dutch’s reply. The flaps were down so Sadie couldn’t see inside but she didn’t need to. Molly and Dutch’s rows were often showstoppers and the camp members had ringside seats.<br/>
“Getting too old for you now, am I? That’s how it usually works with you, isn’t it?”<br/>
“I resent that,” Dutch said, his voice spiked a little but he hadn’t lost his temper with her yet not through lack of Molly trying. She’d been antagonising him for days, doing her damned best to get emotional reactions from him but it was like squeezing blood from a stone. “I have never known a woman with so many needs.”<br/>
“You don’t know the first thing about a <i>woman’s</i> needs,” Molly shouted.<br/>
Dutch didn’t reply and had stormed out of his tent towards the river.<br/>
Charles had been sitting crafting some wood into arrows, “find Arthur for me, now!” He barked at him. </p><p> </p><p>“We’ve been worried sick, dear boy,” Hosea said, standing from the table where he’d been playing dominoes with Tilly.<br/>
Arthur raised an eyebrow, “I can take care of myself, Hosea. You know that.”<br/>
“That I do, Arthur. But with Pinkertons sniffing about, you need to be careful. Dutch is worried, too. He’s by the water, you should probably see him.” </p><p> </p><p>Arthur could see Dutch’s outline towards the water’s edge. He was looking out and hadn’t heard him arrive with Charles.<br/>
“Dutch.” He said as he neared him.<br/>
Dutch turned to face him, “Arthur, son, where the hell have you been?” He wasn’t angry, he looked relieved. He smiled, his eyes twinkled, catching the remainder of the setting sun.<br/>
“Jus’ here and there.” Arthur replied. He sat down on one of the large boulders on the muddy shoreline.<br/>
“Well isn't this beautiful?” Dutch said gesturing back towards the river.<br/>
“I guess,” he said in agreement.<br/>
Dutch clicked his tongue. “What's wrong Arthur, you’ve been gone for weeks and now you have a face like a mule!”<br/>
Arthur laughed. “I was gone for a few days.”<br/>
Dutch sat down beside him. “And I missed you, my boy.” He said gently so no one overheard. “I missed you a lot. You know I need you with me.”</p><p>Arthur shrugged “I'm worried , Dutch. We've had sheriffs from redneck hick towns after us before but this is different…” Pinkertons had approached Arthur when he took John's boy Jack fishing. There was talk of big bountys on everyone’s heads. One of the agents had offered Arthur his own freedom in return for Dutch. Arthur would never betray him like that.<br/>
“I've had a bounty in my head for 13 years , son. Nothing changes it. Always someone gonna be gunning for ya.”<br/>
“I wish it was like before,” Arthur said. Dutch was struck by how childlike Arthur sounded. He'd seen Arthur grow from a small, fragile boy  to what he was now. The fact that Arthur would kill a man with his bare hands just to please Dutch was intoxicating. His devotion knew no bounds. One of the many reasons Arthur was so insatiable to Dutch. But now and then, the Arthur from the past poked through.<br/>
“Me too, son. This country ain't what it was.”<br/>
“I don't mean like that. I mean when it was just us. Me and you. And Hosea.”<br/>
Dutch knew that's what Arthur meant but he just wanted to hear him say it. “It'll always be me and you, Arthur.”<br/>
“Will it ? You said yourself, there's a lot of mouths to feed.”<br/>
“I did say that. Listen, my boy, when we get enough money to get out of here, we can spend the rest of our days together… but right now, we need to stick to the plan. I can’t have you running out on me.”<br/>
“Do you promise?" Arthur asked. There it was again, that childlike innocence that made Dutch catch his breath the way he only ever did with Arthur.  Dutch's dark eyes met Arthur's and slowly, they moved closer to one and other, their lips brushed each other's and they kissed tenderly, neither caring who else saw.<br/>
“I promise you, Arthur. Just us, just like before. Trust me.”<br/>
“I do trust you. Always.”<br/>
Arthur's hardened face softened and he smiled. Dutch’s chest tightened. Arthur didn't smile much now. Was that his fault? Maybe he didn't pay as much attention as he used to and now he had Molly hanging off of him like a barnacle he couldn't shake, it was hard to make time for Arthur. </p><p>“Where did you go, anyway?” Dutch asked Arthur.<br/>
“Back to West Elizabeth. I like it there. Not much around, just woods and animals… It’s open but private.”<br/>
Dutch smiled fondly. “Do you remember the first time we were there?” He asked.</p><p> </p><p>It may have been 20 years ago but still Arthur remembered <i>the first time</i>. It was blurry here and there but every so often, a smell or a sound would bring it all back to him.<br/>
He remembered that Hosea had gone for a few days but didn’t remember why, maybe something to do with Bessie who he was just starting to see back then. Dutch and Arthur were camping near the upper Montana River, it was a beautiful spot with views that seemed to go on forever. In the daytime, Arthur and Dutch would hunt for rabbits to eat in the evening or Arthur would go into Strawberry and go pickpocketing while Dutch caused a distraction, using that burning charisma and articulation to find leads that may come in useful in the future.<br/>
It was summer and it was hot, just like it was in Clemens Point. The campfire was necessary to cook but Arthur had stripped down all but bare to his long johns and cooled off in the river below their camp while Dutch cooked the rabbits. They were slightly charred upon Arthur’s return - Dutch wasn’t one for even the slightest of domestic tasks.<br/>
Dutch called out to him when he walked back up towards the camp, shivering under the skies that had begun to bleed from deep navy to the obsidian black of night.<br/>
“My boy, you’ll catch your death of cold!” Dutch gestured that he sit with him by the fire. Arthur was a tall kid, maybe just a head shorter than Dutch at fifteen years old by this time, slender and willowy, still yet to grow into the rugged man he would become. His hair was fawn, his eyes a shimmering azure, like an ocean Dutch wanted to swim in. He was handsome, no doubt about it. When they went into town, servant girls who had been sent to the general store would look Arthur’s way and blush if he caught their eye. But the boy seemed oblivious, content and proud that he was in town at the side of Dutch van der Linde. </p><p>They ate rabbit in blissful silence. The evening was beautiful and still.<br/>
“Dutch.” Arthur said after a while.<br/>
“Yes, son.”<br/>
“W-what’s it like..?” Arthur asked with uncertainty, “layin’ with a woman?”<br/>
Dutch stifled a laugh. “Whatever makes you ask that, Arthur?”<br/>
Arthur shrugged, hot from the fire but also suddenly now from embarrassment. He had wanted to ask all day but kept finding some reason or other not to.<br/>
“Young boys are curious, I guess….” Dutch mused to himself, he smoked his cigar in quiet contemplation, emitting smoke plumes like a steam train.<br/>
“I-I saw something, is all.” Arthur said, cheeks flushed with resentment for Dutch referring to him as a <i>young boy.</i> “In Strawberry… I saw a man and a woman… Together.”<br/>
Dutch raised an eyebrow but said nothing.<br/>
“They was in the hotel. I’m no peepin’ Tom, honest! I snuck into one of the rooms, y’see… I was seein’ what was worth takin’ and all of a sudden they came in so I hid in the wardrobe and… Well…I saw…” Dutch could see Arthur blushing.  “I just wondered… I kissed this girl once. She was a waitress in a saloon back home. Made me feel all sorts of strange... I felt like that when I was watching them.“ He stopped and looked up at Dutch apprehensively, like he might be chided.<br/>
Dutch nodded. “It’s natural. You’re becoming a man, Arthur and men get urges. Like an itch that needs scratchin’.” He paused, “you just need someone to teach you right.”<br/>
“Can you teach me, Dutch?” Arthur asked, large innocent eyes meeting Dutch’s. Dutch held the boy’s gaze for what was a moment but felt longer. Dutch’s eyes were dark, like the night sky itself but sometimes, Arthur could see colour in them, like stars only meant for him.<br/>
Dutch’s face had changed, still him but somehow something else, too. He wore an expression Arthur had never seen before that he didn’t recognise. A hunger?  Like a wolf about to devour a deer whole.  Arthur felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and his heart began to flutter in his chest like a bird in a cage trying to fly free. Dutch didn’t stop staring at him but he couldn’t look away, he was frozen. </p><p>It was slow and it was loving, Arthur remembered that.</p><p>"Come here, boy" Dutch said and beckoned for Arthur to come closer. He slid the boy onto his lap so he sat astride him, like he would a horse. Arthur felt small sitting like this, despite his height. It dawned on him just how much bigger Dutch was than him; his shoulders and chest double the width of Arthur’s. The fluttering in his chest intensified, more like a humming as he could feel Dutch’s crotch rubbing against his own through the thin material of his long johns. </p><p>Arthur couldn’t pretend he hadn’t thought about this. He continued to climb into Dutch’s bed when he was scared at night, or at least that’s what he’d tell Dutch and Hosea if questioned. The night terrors were becoming less common but Arthur liked sleeping with Dutch. He would let Arthur nuzzle into him and would wrap his arms around him as they slept. Arthur would breathe deep and smell Dutch, sometimes he smelled of whiskey, others of tobacco, sweat if they’d been riding or dried blood if they’d been hunting.<br/>
He liked feeling Dutch’s body pressed against his own. He felt his cock sometimes brush against him as Dutch shifted in his sleep. Arthur often wondered what would happen if he were to reach out and touch it. Would Dutch be angry and cast him out? He only allowed him to share his bed because he was young and had these bad dreams, right? But… Sometimes, when Dutch looked at him, he looked at him with a depth that Arthur wasn’t sure he understood… But he wanted to.</p><p>Dutch pressed his mouth to Arthur’s in a  sudden kiss; it was different to the waitress Arthur mentioned before, her lips were soft and her kiss gentle and fleeting. Dutch’s was somehow harder, Arthur could feel the hair from his moustache and beard and could taste tobacco. The heat from the swell of Dutch’s chest rose and Arthur could smell that musky sweat smell of Dutch’s<br/>
Dutch’s hands explored Arthur’s torso hungrily, his skin clammy from the river water. Dutch’s hands were hot. He caressed Arthur’s skin tenderly, a contradiction to the kiss. Arthur felt dizzy. He kissed back as best he knew how, his lips mimicking the way Dutch’s moved; open, close, tongues teasing one and other.</p><p>Dutch pulled away, Arthur’s cheeks were flushed even more and he was panting like a dog in heat. A strange, hazy mist seemed to have settled before his eyes like the time he had drunk Hosea’s brandy. Arthur felt drunk again now, with an urge - the urge Dutch must have meant.<br/>
Dutch’s hands stopped when they reached Arthur’s undergarments. Arthur was achingly hard. He couldn’t meet Dutch’s eye.<br/>
“Don’t be shy, my boy,” Dutch said gently. He reached inside Arthur’s undergarments and pulled his cock out. Arthur saw Dutch wet his lips, he smirked. “Oh, my boy,” he said softly.<br/>
“Dutch…” Arthur said quietly. “I…”<br/>
“You do trust me, don’t you, Arthur?” Dutch asked and Arthur nodded instantly, not having to think for a second. “Then there’s no reason to be afraid.”</p><p>Dutch took hold of Arthur  firmly. The shock of Dutch’s hand on him made his entire body jolt, like an electric current had run through him and he gasped.<br/>
“Shhh….” Dutch cooed, his free hand reached around and held the back of Arthur’s head, stroking his soft hair that stuck to his forehead with sweat.<br/>
Arthur found himself writhing like a deer needing putting out of its misery. Dutch stroked him, his hands seemed to know what to do and how to do it better than Arthur’s own had ever done. His body moved all on its own in a way Arthur hadn’t known before. His hips were grinding down onto Dutch’s, his naked cock pressing against Dutchs clothed one. He felt himself leaning into Dutch, raising his hips and thrusting, matching the speed at which Dutch stroked him.</p><p>Arthur’s eyes fluttered shut, he let his head fall back and moaned, releasing sounds he never knew he was capable of. He felt Dutch’s lips on him again, kissing his throat, teeth grazing his Adam's apple and down his collarbone to his shoulder. Arthur’s body tremored and with each stroke, his hips bucked up to meet Dutch’s hand.</p><p>He wanted to say something, he wanted to tell Dutch how good it felt, he wanted to tell him to never stop but he couldn’t. On the inside of his eyelids he could see lights and colours. He whimpered into Dutch’s shoulder, wrapped his arms around the older man, arching his back and found himself clinging to him as a white hot intensity formed in the pit of his belly. It shut everything else in the world out. All he could feel was Dutch’s hand, tugging at him relentlessly and rhymically in a way that Arthur didn’t even know was possible. He buried his head in Dutch’s neck.<br/>
“Good boy, Arthur….” Dutch whispered in encouragement. “You’re doin’ so good.”</p><p>It happened fast. Everything was tingling, buzzing like static and then it reached a crescendo, the lights and colours swirled dizzyingly, Arthur’s body jerked uncontrollably as a wave of pleasure washed over him. Arthur pressed his mouth to the crook of Dutch’s neck, muffling his cries. He released into Dutch’s hand, he shuddered and spasmed, Dutch held him in place.<br/>
“Dutch….” He breathed, slumping against him.<br/>
Everything was still again. Arthur could hear the river flowing, the campfire crackling and crickets chirping. His heart was still pounding in his chest. He felt warm and tired. He fell asleep in Dutch’s arms. </p><p>The next morning, he woke up. Dutch must have put him inside the tent but couldn’t say for sure. Dutch wasn’t there, he was outside smoking  when Arthur joined him.<br/>
“Are you hungry?” Dutch asked him, “there’s meat from last night and I bought some canned peaches from the store yesterday, I know how you like them so.”<br/>
Arthur felt confused. Had it happened at all? He glanced at the chair Dutch had been sitting in last night then back at Dutch.<br/>
“Or we could go fishing if you want.” Dutch continued.<br/>
“Dutch I-”<br/>
“There you boys are!” It was Hosea, he was riding towards them across the field. “I thought it was you.”<br/>
In that moment, Dutch’s eyes met Arthur’s again and they shared a look, that look that Arthur had never understood until now. He knew that he hadn’t dreamed last night.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Final Decision</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Arthur  wondered if this was what it felt like to be happy. When was he last happy? It could be like this all the time if only Dutch would stop running. He’d even said himself, they could spend the rest of their days together, <i>like this</i>, if only they could get away from the law. Arthur wished for nothing more than the rest of his life to be as peaceful and happy as he felt right now. </i>
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          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was maybe a week until Arthur was able to get Dutch on his own again after what had happened at their camp outside of Strawberry. They had moved on, back west into New Austin but Arthur couldn’t shake that night from his head. The heat from the fire - from Dutch sitting beneath him. The sound of the river but also the rushing in his ears and that feeling like his whole body had been ignited.</p><p>“I need to talk to you,” he said quietly, eyes on his horse rather than Dutch.<br/>
They were riding back into camp after Hosea had asked them to get some more supplies.<br/>
“Yes, son?” Dutch responded. Arthur felt annoyed at how Dutch didn’t seem to want to acknowledge it, let alone talk about it. He was annoyed at how Dutch played dumb, almost making Arthur wonder whether it really had happened.<br/>
“T-the other night…” Arthur started. He’d had this conversation in his head with Dutch hundreds of times since it had happened and now he struggled to get his words out coherently. “When we was alone by the river…”<br/>
Arthur stopped. He hoped Dutch might say something at this point but he didn’t. His dark, watchful eyes rested on Arthur in a way that made him uncomfortable<br/>
“I… Well, I’m… Confused.” Arthur finished, his inflection went up on the last word making it more of a question than a statement. </p><p>Was he confused? And if so, which part of it confused him?<br/>
The fact that Dutch had touched him so intimately, the fact that it felt so good and now Arthur was left in a daze. He’d heard stories when he went into town about men together, mostly boys who would keep older men company for money and even he had been approached before <i>“the nights sure do get lonely,”</i> a man outside a saloon had drawled as Arthur backed away quickly, <i> “I could use a pretty little boy like you to keep me warm.”</i> Arthur had darted away, not sure what the man meant. <i>”Don’t be like that, darlin’!”</i> The man had called after him.</p><p>Arthur was confused because he kept thinking about it; every day, all day. He thought about the way Dutch had held him square in his lap, and how unyielding his hand was. He could smell Dutch on him, the whiskey and smoke. He could taste the kiss. If he thought hard enough he could feel Dutch’s free hand on his back steadying him as he had bucked and squirmed in the older man’s grip. He didn’t try to shut those thoughts out. He wanted to relive it. He wanted to do it again. The way he had looked at Dutch had changed but he didn’t understand it and couldn’t find the words to explain it but something had changed. </p><p>“Confused.” Dutch repeated. His was not a question. “Because of what we did.”<br/>
Arthur nodded, feeling a sudden rush of relief that Dutch recognised that it had even happened at all.<br/>
“I understand, son. Like I said, you’re turning into a young man and these urges can be confusing.”<br/>
“No.” Arthur said sharply, so much so that Dutch looked taken aback. “I-I’m confused about.... About… Us.”<br/>
“Us?” Dutch repeated.<br/>
“I...I feel strange. Like I want to be with you all the time. I want to be close to you.” Arthur felt his body was on fire, he knew he was blushing; it had sounded fine in his head but he felt stupid saying it to Dutch.</p><p>“But Arthur, you are with me all the time.”<br/>
“No! Like we was that night.”<br/>
“I see.”<br/>
“I-I know we’re both men but it felt good and I… I’m scared because I don’t know what I think no more.”<br/>
“Men or women,” Dutch mused, “we’re all the same at the core. We find comfort and safety where and with who we can.”<br/>
Arthur looked across to Dutch and their eyes met. He understood that Dutch was affirming him. He felt safe with Dutch. </p><p>“Listen, son.” Dutch said as they approached the town, “we’ll talk about this more later, ok?” </p><p>That night after Hosea had said goodnight to both of them, Arthur went into Dutch’s tent.<br/>
Dutch was sat on his cot waiting for him.<br/>
He spoke in hushed tones as Hosea was in the tent beside them.</p><p>“Son,” he said gently, “about what you said to me earlier; I want us to be close like that, too. And we can. But you can’t go telling people, y’understand? Not even old Hosea.”<br/>
“Why?” Arthu started to say, Dutch cut him off.<br/>
“Not everyone sees it like we do. They think things should be how they are - men and women and not men together.”<br/>
Arthur told Dutch about the man who had propositioned him outside of the saloon before. “He seemed to think men could be together.”<br/>
Dutch nodded, “some folk do and some don’t. I just don’t want you gettin’ hurt by those that don’t, ok my boy?”<br/>
Arthur nodded. “Can I stay with you tonight?” He asked. </p><p>That night, Arthur had curled into Dutch in his cot like usual and Dutch had held him close.<br/>
Arthur was already short of breath with anticipation.  With confidence from last time, his lips found Dutch’s in the darkness of the tent and he kissed him. It felt like a headrush, the sort Arthur got after smoking his first cigarette; he could smell, taste and feel him all at once. Dutchs hands searched once again, unbuttoning Arthur’s union shirt all the way down and Arthur obligingly wriggled out of it. Arthur could feel that humming in his chest again.</p><p>The kiss deepened and Arthur felt Dutch flick his tongue into his mouth. Arthur’s body jolted at the sensation but he liked it. He did the same back and felt himself hardening like a rock.<br/>
Dutch pulled away, he sat up tugging at his undergarments until he too was bare. Arthur watched in fascination. He’d seen Dutch and Hosea both in varying states of undress before but this was different. He drank the sight in before him. </p><p>Arthur’s eyes  traced Dutch’s broad shoulders and chest covered in dark hair, peppered with freckles and scars then down to his slim waist that then gave way to his thick thighs. Many days of manual labour paired with running from lawmen and brawling in saloons had made Dutch muscular and defined.<br/>
Arthur absent mindedly licked his lips and studied his member  which was also surrounded by dark hair, much darker than Arthur’s which was wispy fine and sandy coloured.  It was bigger in every way, thicker and longer, the skin darker than Arthur’s. It was throbbing with hardness.<br/>
Arthur  felt a strange sensation, an ache from deep inside of him that he didn’t fully understand. All he knew was that he wanted that cock.</p><p>Tentatively, Arthur sat up too and reached to touch it. Dutch watched as Arthur wrapped his fingers around it, just like he did to his own, and began to stroke. Dutch’s eyes closed now, he wet his lips. Arthur continued his hands slowly running up and down the length so Dutch sighed; he wanted Dutch to feel as good as he had the other night.<br/>
“Use your mouth, son,” Dutch said gently.<br/>
Arthur stopped. He didn’t understand. “Mouth?” He repeated. He felt stupid for not knowing, he wanted to be able to please Dutch instantly.<br/>
Dutch’s hand found Arthur’s chin and he guided Arthur’s head down until he was eye level with his length. “Suck it,” Dutch said firmly.</p><p>Arthur didn’t need any encouragement, his hot lips wrapped around Dutch. Dutch filled his wet mouth effortlessly. Arthur could feel the veins and ridges inside his mouth. The impressive girth stretched Arthur’s mouth completely.<br/>
He obeyed Dutch’s order and sucked, slurping as his tongue ran the span of Dutch’s cock and flicked it like Dutch had done in his mouth. His eyes fixated on the older man knelt above him. Dutch breathed heavily and made quiet, low sounds of satisfaction every now and then. Arthur loved that, as if being encouraged by it. </p><p>Dutch’s fingers became entangled with Arthur’s fair hair and he guided the boy’s head so that Arthur’s movements became more rhythmic. Arthur moaned around Dutch’s cock.<br/>
Dutch cussed and held Arthur’s head in place, this time moving his own hips back and forth so that he could push deeper into Arthur’s mouth. He hit Arthur’s throat and the boy squirmed under him, gagging but Dutch didn’t let him go. </p><p>“Oh son….” Dutch moaned tenderly, fingers pulling on Arthur’s hair; it sent jolts of excitement shooting down Arthur’s body to his dick.  With each thrust, Arthur could smell Dutch: musty and sweaty, somehow that excited him more. The thrusts got faster and tears were welling in Arthur’s eyes with discomfort but he didn’t want to pull away, not until Dutch was finished. </p><p>Dutch’s body juddered as he released. Arthur almost pulled away in surprise when the hot liquid hit the back of his throat but Dutch kept him in place, his fingers turning into a fist which gripped Arthur’s hair.<br/>
Dutch stayed motionless for a moment, eyes closed, basking in the aftermath of his orgasm, dick still pulsing in Arthur’s mouth. Then he pulled out. The cum dribbled down Arthur’s chin. Dutch opened his eyes and watched Arthur swallow; it was bitter and smelled strange. Dutch smirked.</p><p>“Come here boy,” he whispered and Arthur rose back up to his knees. Dutch kissed him again before turning him around and holding Arthur flush to his chest. This time, he spat on his palm before reaching  down between Arthur’s legs and took hold of Arthur’s raging erection.</p><p>Arthur gasped despite his best efforts. He lent back into Dutch whose lips seemed to dance from Arthur’s pale neck to his shoulder. Arthur was moaning alread.. He didn’t want it to be over so quickly this time, he wanted it to last all night but he couldn’t help himself.<br/>
Dutch’s hand was firm, like before, the pressure he added to Arthur’s cock was intoxicating and Arthur found himself writhing again, moaning and letting out soft whimpers as Dutch stroked him, hand slicked from spit.</p><p> Arthur’s eyes closed and he melted into Dutch, his body at the complete mercy of the older man. Dutch’s strong arm reached across Arthur’s body, steadying him. Arthur could feel that hot heat was filling him again from edge to edge. Arthurs body was sprung tight like a coil. Dutch’s cock was stiff again, Arthur could feel it rubbing against the small of his back and that somehow turned him on more. </p><p>“Dutch…” Arthur panted, “please…”<br/>
Dutch growled and picked up the pace stroking Arthur faster until the boy cried out Dutch’s name and then he shuddered once more as he released into Dutch’s hand.</p><p>Arthur’s legs felt shaky. Dutch held him while he caught his breath then lay him down. Dutch got up to smoke a cigar and by the time he had returned to the cot, Arthur was fast asleep. </p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>As much as the heat made Arthur irritable, the camp was much nicer than the one at Horseshoe Overlook which always seemed cold and depressing. They’d been there for a couple of weeks now and everyone seemed to be getting used to it and things were going back to normal, Lenny would come over to Arthur as he sat by the fire, bright eyed and bushy tailed talking about a couple of places he’d scoped out and even Uncle had a lead though that might have got them into more trouble than it was worth…</p><p>Arthur lay beside Dutch who was still sleeping. Dutch didn’t sleep much, whenever Arthur woke during the night, Dutch was usually awake either reading or smoking, sometimes just staring off into the distance and thinking. Arthur didn’t ask him what he thought about, it felt too much like talking about work and the time they spent together was too precious to waste on that.</p><p>It was a rarity for Dutch to let Arthur stroke his dark curls. Usually, he didn’t want Arthur to hold him - dominance and submission. This was one of the few times Arthur was able to do so, when Dutch was sleeping. Dutch’s hair was soft, sometimes slicked back with pomade.<br/>
The morning sunlight caught Dutch’s skin and danced across his face which was tranquil while he slept. Arthur’s fingers found their way down to Dutch’s face where he absentmindedly traced his cheekbones. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be happy. When was he last happy? It could be like this all the time if only Dutch would stop running. He’d even said himself, they could spend the rest of their days together, <i>like this</i>, if only they could get away from the law. Arthur wished for nothing more than the rest of his life to be as peaceful and happy as he felt right now. </p><p>He got out of bed and left Dutch asleep. He half dressed, putting his pants back on and throwing a shirt on without buttoning it. He went outside the tent and lit a cigarette. The camp was still. Everyone else was still asleep, too. It was hot already, despite the sun only just having risen. Arthur hated this country but he could see why Dutch liked it.</p><p> </p><p>“Look at ya,” came a voice that made Arthur start and turn around. It was Molly, she staggered towards him, drunk. She’d been drinking a lot lately. Arthur felt bad, he knew he was half of the problem, Dutch being the other half. “Ya think you’re so special, dontcha <i>Mr Morgan?</i>”<br/>
“Molly…” Arthur started but she continued.<br/>
“Dutch van der Linde’s right hand man,” she said mockingly. “Well he’ll only screw you over like he has with me!”<br/>
“Molly, you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”<br/>
“Oh I do, Mr Morgan, I do! For the first time, I can see everything. And I can see that he plays with you just like he plays with me. And he plays you like a fool, Arthur He’ll throw you away when he’s done, too!”</p><p>Other members of the gang were starting to stir at the noise. Hosea had sat up and was watching the pair of them.<br/>
Arthur didn’t know what to say. The part of him that didn’t feel guilty was angered and ready to argue. Dutch was different with him, Molly would never understand.<br/>
“You all think he's so great!” She shouted, waving her hand around at all the other tents, “well let me tell ya, he’s a liar and a charlatan! You think he’s gonna save ya with his <i>big plan!</i> All he cares about is himself! You don’t see him putting into the donation box, do ya?”</p><p>“That’s enough, Miss O’Shea.” Susan had marched across the campsite towards Molly and tried to take her by the arm.<br/>
“Oh here she is!” Molly cackled, “Dutch’s old, <i>old</i> trollop!”<br/>
Susan slapped Molly hard clean  across her face and Molly bent over double.<br/>
Micah who had appeared near Dutch’s tent  let out a laugh.</p><p>Dutch finally came out of the tent and sighed, looking at Molly with disdain. “Tell everyone what you think, why don’t you?” He said sarcastically.<br/>
“You’re a bastard, Dutch van der Linde!” She shrieked, poking her finger into his now fully clothed chest. “You wouldn’t know a plan if it slapped ya in the face!”<br/>
“If you don’t <i>shut up</i>, my dear, I might have to slap you in the face,” Dutch retorted.<br/>
“Charmin’!” Molly exclaimed, wobbling dangerously, Susan’s hand still on her shoulder keeping her upright, “threatenin’ violence against a lady.”<br/>
“I don’t see any ladies present here.” Dutch growled.<br/>
Molly screamed and launched herself at Dutch. Arthur grabbed her and Susan pulled her back. Dutch didn’t even flinch. </p><p>“I think it would be best, if you permanently left camp, Miss O’Shea.” Dutch said calmly and returned into his tent.<br/>
Molly was screaming and sobbing, “you can’t do this to me! Dutch! Dutch get back out here you fecker!”<br/>
But he didn’t. Once Dutch made up his mind, it was always final.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Dysfunctional Are We</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Arthur had turned his back on John the day John turned his back on them. Arthur believed in family, this dysfunctional family that he would do anything for - die for if needs be. He would've done anything for John and it hurt to see that John did not feel the same way back.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <i>Happy Wednesday everyone!</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>So here's the heads up for this chapter and the fic from now on, I'm kinda moving away from canon and writing it in a way that I kinda wish had happened! (That means no Guarma lol)</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Hope you enjoy ^^*</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Maybe you could be kinder to John.” Hosea said one morning when Arthur was sitting on his cot, writing in his journal.<br/>
Arthur wrinkled his nose in disapproval but he didn’t say anything.<br/>
“Now, dear boy, don’t be like that. You used to be so close.”<br/>
“Yeah, used to be.” Arthur muttered. Hosea was right, they had been close, grown up like brothers - the most dysfunctional family there was: Dutch, Hosea, Arthur and John… </p><p>It was almost funny to look back on. Arthur remembered the good times; him and John would steal Dutch’s cigars and secretly smoke them getting giddy on head rushes from the tobacco and the knowledge that they’d be in trouble if Dutch found them. John would steal whiskey, candy and chocolate from the general store while Arthur distracted the clerky by questioning him about everything in the catalogue. John had drunk all of the whiskey once and staggered into a river and Arthur had jumped in after him to save him from drowning; Hosea had gone ballistic and wouldn’t talk to them for a week.<br/>
Arthur had turned his back on John the day John turned his back on them. Arthur believed in family, this dysfunctional family that he would do anything for - die for if needs be. He would've done anything for John and it hurt to see that John did not feel the same way back.</p><p>“John’s not a bad boy, son. He just… He’s not as strong as you.”<br/>
Arthur didn’t say anything. It used to be so different between them but John always had this remarkable way of fucking things up and never feeling the need to apologise for it or try to mend the things he had broken... And they were still so broken from John running away like he had.<br/>
“He looks up to you Arthur. You’re his brother, his big brother.”<br/>
“Are you tryna guilt trip me, Hosea?” Arthur asked, looking up at Hosea.<br/>
Hosea laughed. “Maybe. Listen son, do it for me. Humour an old, sick man.”<br/>
“You <i>are</i> trying to guilt trip me!” But it worked. </p><p>Arthur waited until John was sitting by the fire smoking before going over to him. He wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t have much to say to John anymore and it seemed that John had little to say to him, too.<br/>
“Any, uh, new leads?” Arthur asked gruffly, not looking at John. John’s hair fell over his face, hiding his scar from view.<br/>
“I’m working on a couple of things,” came John’s reply. Eyes also fixed on the fire rather than Arthur. Arthur wondered whether Hosea had been putting Dutch up to putting them together every time he wanted something doing recently.<br/>
Arthur could feel Hosea’s eyes burning into him from across the camp.<br/>
“It’s never gonna be how it was with us.” Arthur said eventually.<br/>
“I-I know.” John replied. He looked a little taken aback.<br/>
“Hosea wanted me to talk to you and… Well, I… I’m no good with words, you know that.”<br/>
“Yeah, I know. Me neither.”</p><p>They sat in silence for a few moments until Jack came over to them. Jack had crouched down beside the fire and poked it with the stick he was carrying. He then looked up at John and asked, “what’s a fag?”<br/>
John’s eyes flashed with panic, “what? Where the hell did you hear that word?”<br/>
“Micah said it to someone. He called Uncle Arthur a fag.” Jack replied. “What does it mean?”<br/>
“Micah said it, did he?” Arthur grumbled.<br/>
“You’re not to say it, Jack. It’s not nice.”<br/>
“But Micah-”<br/>
“Micah is not a nice man. Don’t you go copyin’ him, y’hear me?” John said firmly.<br/>
“Yes, sir.” Jack said before heading off to find Cain to play with.</p><p>John caught Arthur’s eye. “You want me to talk to him?”<br/>
“Micah?” Arthur asked. “Nah. He’s not worth the breath, John.”<br/>
John signed. “I don’t know why Dutch keeps him around. The man’s an ass.”<br/>
“He’s a good shooter,” Arthur shrugged, “and he’s never opposed a single thing Dutch has ever said.”<br/>
John smirked, “kinda like you then.”<br/>
Arthur shrugged again. He never thought of it like that. </p><p>The word has been thrown around before. Usually by someone who didn't know better and certainly didn't know Dutch.<br/>
There had been many instances where Dutch had gotten into a fight with someone who dared say it to his face. <i>“Say it again,”</i> he’d growl, pointing his revolver at them,<i> “I dare you.”</i><br/>
Arthur thought about what Charles had said before. <i>”People are people and love is love.”</i> He supposed that was right. It had taken him a long time to understand that.<br/>
When he was younger, he hadn't understood. The only time he'd heard of men laying with men was in  the Bible and those stories never ended well. But how could something that was supposed to be wrong make him feel the way he did? Ignited. When he was with Dutch, he was invisible.<br/>
Mary had made him feel something, too. An ache from his heart whenever he thought of her but he was never feverish without her, like with Dutch.</p><p>The word <i>fag</i> seemed empty to Arthur, spat at him in saloons from people who had heard rumours of him and Dutch. It could never properly explain their relationship or their love.<br/>
People around the camp would speculate. Micah was one of them, of course, though Arthur didn't doubt that that it was through some strange jealousy because he was certain that if Dutch told Micah to suck his cock Micah’d be on his knees faster than a preacher in front of an altar.</p><p>Bill too had seemed uncertain at first. Bill was a simple man and it didn't take much to confuse him.<br/>
“They… have intercourse? Dutch and Mr Morgan?” He had said, as if the words were alien to him.<br/>
He had been sitting with Uncle and Javier one night after Javier had finished playing his guitar and they had heard muffled sounds from Dutch’s tent. Bill had been with them two years at this point and hadn’t noticed anything before.<br/>
“Yeah.” Javier replied with a nonchalant shrug, “come on, amigo, don't tell me you haven't been lonely out there before? Sometimes there's only men for miles around…”<br/>
“Have you had intercourse with them?!” Bill asked, sounding shocked.<br/>
“No, not with <i>them….</i>” Javier replied, a hint of a smirk in his voice. “Listen compadre, there are worse things a man can do. Plus, who knows what a man likes better than another man..?”<br/>
Bill considered this for a moment then nodded. “I ‘spose…”<br/>
After a while, Javier continued, “it doesn't matter who Dutch sleeps with at night. It matters whether he's on our side and has our back... And he always does. So we should have his.”<br/>
Bill seemed happy with this answer for a moment then said, “but... what about women? Like Miss O’Shea?”<br/>
Javier shrugged, lighting up a cigarette and inhaling deeply before he answered. “Sometimes you want a juicy steak and other times you want plump chicken.” He said with a devilish look in his eye.<br/>
Bill looked confused again. Uncle laughed at this.<br/>
“I don’t know, Mr Escuella,” he said, “I’ve always believed in the love of a good woman. Don’t get me wrong, what ol’ Dutch and Mr Morgan get up to is no business of mine but-”<br/>
Javier cut him off. “Has the love of a good woman ever shot and killed a group of men all wanting to skin you and send you to the Pinkertons?”<br/>
Uncle looked surprised at Javier’s passionate response.<br/>
“I didn't think so.” Javier said between drags on his cigarette, “Mr Morgan is good for Dutch. You saw what happened in Blackwater when Arthur wasn’t around. Sure, Arthur cares but if he didn’t love Dutch like he does do you think he’d be half as good a shot?”</p><p>****</p><p>Dutch had been tender with Arthur since he pushed Arthur against the tree and told him not to forget himself. He had not apologised but Dutch was not the type of person to do so. He showed his regret in different ways.<br/>
However, Arthur continued to be unruly, disobeying Dutch when he knew he could get away with it. He no longer questioned Dutch if he slept with women but that didn't stop him from being angry and acting out to the point where he’d caused a stir in the local saloon and got arrested for beating a man so hard he would have died had the bartender not pulled Arthur off of him. Hosea went to the jail the next day and managed to get him out, spinning some spiel about Arthur not being right in the head. </p><p>Dutch had ignored him upon his return to the camp and Arthur had sulked quietly in his tent. Susan came to find him one afternoon under the guise of giving him food which he’d been refusing. </p><p>“The thing you gotta know is that women seem to be disposable to Dutch.” She said, sitting down beside Arthur who glared at the ground. “Dutch is… Well, he’s a greedy man in that respect. A man that can’t say no to cardinal pleasures… He likes pretty things.”<br/>
“Is this supposed to help me, Miss Grimshaw?” Arthur asked flatly.<br/>
“What I’m saying, Arthur, is that you aren’t disposable. Dutch cares for you deeply. He really does.”<br/>
“Then why-” Arthur started with a flurry of anger. “Why does he do it? Aren’t… Aren’t I enough? Or… or am I doin’ something wrong? I don’t get it.”<br/>
Susan smiled sadly at Arthur. “Like I said, he just can’t say no.”</p><p>Back then, Arthur often wondered why Susan wasn’t upset about it; wasn’t she jealous that Dutch didnt love her? Maybe some people didn't want love.<br/>
Arthur remembered that need to be loved ever since his childhood; he remembered looking into his father’s eyes and wondering why he didn't love him back. Arthur would have done anything to change that. And sometimes, he felt the same when he looked at Dutch. He wanted approval, affirmation and love. Maybe a man could love someone and still have sex with others. Arthur didn’t know.</p><p>And then Dutch brought John to the camp. Arthur had just turned seventeen. John was around thirteen. He looked just like Arthur had when Dutch and Hosea had found him, scrawny with shaggy hair only John’s was brown. He seemed timid and scrappy. </p><p>Women maybe Arthur could understand but not this. Not another boy. It was the last straw. He left the camp one night deciding that he was done; he would go and find another gang or maybe a job. He didn’t need any of them anymore…<br/>
Except that was a lie but it was the pain talking. Over the past year or so, he’d gone from admiring Dutch to being in totally in love with him. And he thought Dutch felt the same until all the women came and now he didn’t know what to think. Sure, Susan had said that they didn’t mean a thing - then why did he sleep with them in the first place?<br/>
Bringing John back suddenly made it clear to Arthur that he certainly was disposable and his time was up.</p><p>Arthur hated looking at them. He hated the way John looked at Dutch, with wonderment… Just like he used to. </p><p>Arthur rode north, back past Strawberry and towards Owanjila dam. He camped there for a couple of days, wondering where he should go next. Strawberry was too small and had a weird feeling about it. He didn’t much like the idea of going further east though, he’d never been that way before and without Dutch and Hosea to look after him, he wasn’t certain he’d do so well. He became angry with himself for thinking that way. He was seventeen, he could take care of himself. </p><p>It was Dutch who found him one night and he was furious when he did.<br/>
“I have been looking all over for you!” Dutch snapped as he rode up to Arthur who was hunched over his campfire. The evenings were bitterly cold and Arthur shivered. He hadn’t thought about the change of temperature. All he’d wanted to do was get away. “What the hell are you doing all the way out here, son?”<br/>
Arthur didn’t answer. Part of him had wanted Dutch to come and find him and the other part never wanted to see him again.<br/>
“Arthur!” Dutch snapped, “I am talking to you! What the hell are you doing out here without permission?”<br/>
Arthur shrugged.<br/>
“You’re acting like a child!”<br/>
Arthur whipped around to face Dutch and that was when Dutch saw that there were tears in Arthur’s gentle blue eyes. “Maybe I am, Dutch. What does it matter to you now, anyway? You’ve got your new boy - you don’t need me no more.”<br/>
“W-what?” Dutch stammered, uncharacteristically. He got down off of his horse and approached Arthur, this time, he looked concerned. “Is this what it’s about? John?” </p><p>Arthur’s lips seemed to tighten at the mention of his name until they looked like a straight line drawn with pencil.<br/>
Dutch stifled a laugh, “Arthur! He’s just a kid!”<br/>
“So was I!” Arthur barked, “so was I when we first…. And I thought… I thought it was special.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I thought you loved me.” He blinked and hot tears rolled down his cheeks, he brushed them away angrily.</p><p>Dutch reached out a hand and laid it on Arthur’s shoulder. “I do love you, son. I do.”<br/>
Arthur shrugged Dutch’s hand off of him. “I’ve been stupid.” He spat, “I don’t know why I thought… But it don’t matter now. You got your new boy, you ain’t needin’ me no more.”<br/>
It was Dutch’s turn to get angry. He grabbed Arthur by his upper arms, as if he wanted to shake him. “You’re my boy, Arthur. You and only you. My boy.”</p><p>Arthur looked away. It hadn’t felt like that, not since John came. It was like a dance, he could see Dutch and John walking the steps that he and Dutch used to. He was teaching John to read and hunt and shoot. It was jealousy and humiliation, devouring him until he couldn’t think straight anymore; the more he saw John at camp with Dutch, the worse he felt. Anger, so much anger that he couldn’t function. He was angry with himself for letting this happen to him. He was supid, so stupid. </p><p>“You ain’t so much as looked at me in weeks.” Arthur said, dejectedly.<br/>
“Arthur!” Dutch exclaimed, sounding exasperated. “I thought you knew how I feel. I love you like a son -  like more than a son. I don't know what we are but I know I love you and ain't no one gonna replace that.”</p><p>Arthur wanted to scream at Dutch, wanted to beat him like he had the man in the saloon. <i>If you love me then why do you do this to me? Why do you do nothing but take and cause pain?!</i> But he couldn’t. Hot tears of anger and shame rolled miserably down his cheeks. He stood up and faced away from Dutch. Why was he so weak in front of him? </p><p>“We couldn’t leave John, son. He’s just a kid. About the same age as you when I found you and I wouldn't have let you hang and neither could I let him. So you understand?"<br/>
Arthur shrugged again. </p><p>“Talk to me, Arthur. I can’t stand you like this.”<br/>
Arthur felt his whole body stiffen at this statement.<br/>
“You can’t stand me?” Arthur repeated. “<i>You</i> can’t stand <i>me</i>?”<br/>
When he turned to face Dutch, Dutch could see the rage on his face. He had never seen Arthur look like this, his features darkened, beautiful blue eyes suddenly as black as a stormy night’s sky.<br/>
“I can’t stand you and your horseshit!” Arthur roared, “I have to sit there like some pathetic lapdog, waiting for you while you fuck every whore all over New Austin and then be <i>grateful</i> when you show me the slightest bit of affection?!” </p><p>For once, Dutch seemed stunned into silence. Maybe he wasn’t expecting Arthur to explode like this, not after what happened last time he had dared raised his voice to him. But Dutch could see that Arthur didn’t care anymore. The boy somehow looked so vulnerable, yet more like a grown man than ever. </p><p>“And now!” Arthur continued his tirade, “now you bring some <i>boy</i> to the camp and expect me to just smile and let you fuck him too?!”<br/>
“A-Arthur!” Dutch stammered, “I’ve never… Not with John and I wouldn’t. He’s just a kid!”<br/>
“So was I! What’s the difference?” Arthur snapped.<br/>
“You were older and more mature. It’s different.”<br/>
Arthur’s fists clenched and his whole body shook. “I don’t believe you.” He hissed.<br/>
Dutch’s face fell. Arthur had never seen him look like that before. He found himself stopping. His anger dissipated momentarily and he was taken aback at how broken Dutch looked at Arthur’s words; his lack of faith.<br/>
Dutch’s dark eyes looked clear. He swallowed and his broad shoulders seemed to wither.</p><p>“I-I know I haven’t been treatin’ you the way I should, son.” Dutch said finally, his gaze dropped to the ground, “and I’m sorry. I truly am. I can’t help myself sometimes. It’s… it’s an urge. That itch that needs to be scratched but I don’t want to use you like that… You’re precious to me, Arthur. Them women ain’t.” </p><p>Arthur exhaled heavily. “Why didn’t you say that before? I’ve been lost for weeks, months, because of this. I thought… I thought you didn’t care for me no more.”<br/>
It was Dutch’s turn to sigh. He closed the gap between them and gently laid his hand on Arthur’s cheek. "Arthur. If I didn't care, I wouldn'ta rode out here to find you. I need you."<br/>
Arthur looked up into Dutch's eyes.<br/>
"I need you." Dutch repeated.<br/>
“And John?”<br/>
Dutch shook his head. “We save people as needs savin’. He needed us. That’s all.”</p><p>Arthur pulled Dutch towards him by his shirt collars and kissed him hard. He needed to feel Dutch’s kiss, needed to know it was still him. Dutch’s arms wound around Arthur and held him close. They kissed as if searching for something, it was as intense as ever yet different somehow. It was fuelled by sadness and regret and love that burned so hard and deep that neither of them understood it or knew what to do about it. </p><p>They didn’t fuck that night. That somehow would taint things. Dutch took the blanket from his horse and draped it over Arthur. They sat together, Arthur with his head on Dutch’s shoulder, Dutch’s arm around him. Dutch was staring up at the sky.<br/>
“The stars are beautiful tonight.” He said to Arthur.<br/>
Arthur smiled and sighed. He fell asleep like that.</p><p>****</p><p>Arthur had noticed that Micah was sniffing around Dutch’s tent again. Micah was a kiss-ass. Luckily, Dutch knew it too. Dutch would often go off on long, loving rants about the section of a book he’d just read and Micah would lap it all up and then tell Dutch how brilliant he was as a person afterwards.<br/>
“He wants something,” Arthur had warned Dutch.<br/>
“Oh I know, son. I know.” </p><p>“Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called - or however it goes.” Micah said as Arthur approached. Dutch wasn’t in his tent. He turned his gaze to Micah. Micah was an ugly man, his hair was dirty blond, like straw and his eyes a piercing blue. He was overweight but managed to hide it well. Arthur hated him. He made no effort to hide it. He’d almost hoped that if he complained enough about him, Dutch would get rid of him from the camp but that, unfortunately, was yet to happen. Micah would slither around the camp, like the slug he was, upsetting everyone he spoke to. One day, Dutch would see him for what he was and stamp him out, once and for all. </p><p>“I’m not sure that line of thought serves you and me very well,” Arthur replied, not looking at Micah.<br/>
“That's because, Cowpoke, you are a man of profoundly limited intelligence.” Micah retorted. Arthur wasn’t sure when Micah had started calling him <i>Cowpoke</i>. He hated it. He wasn’t sure if it had something to do with Dutch and his relationship but he didn’t have the energy to find out.<br/>
“No doubt,” Arthur muttered to himself more than Micah.<br/>
“Old Mr Pearson might've gone and lightened the load a little.” Micah said.</p><p>He called Pearson over and at that point Dutch appeared from the water where he had been smoking.<br/>
Pearson told some story or other about meeting with some O'driscolls who said that Colm wanted to call a truce. They wanted peace - a parlay.</p><p>Dutch studied Pearson and Micah then finally said, “have you lost your minds?” There was a dangerous tone to his voice.<br/>
Hosea looked up from his newspaper “a parlay?” He repeated, “it’s a trap!”<br/>
“But what have we got to lose finding out?” Micah asked.<br/>
“We’ll get shot,” Arthur said bluntly. Dutch nodded.<br/>
“We won’t get shot because you’ll be protecting us. If it's a trap, you shoot the lot of ‘em, if it aint a trap…” He didn’t finish his sentence.</p><p>“I don't see the point in any of this,” Dutch growled, inhaling on his cigar then walking away angrily, towards Hosea<br/>
“It’s a chance we gotta take.” Micah said desperately.<br/>
“I killed Colm’s brother, long time ago.” Dutch said.<br/>
“As you say, it's a long time ago, Dutch.” Micah said, almost dismissively<br/>
After some consideration, Dutch nodded. “Let's go, you, me and Arthur protecting us, no one else.”<br/>
Pearson looked a little put out but Dutch ignored him.<br/>
Arthur had a bad feeling about this but was not going to oppose Dutch. He very rarely did. </p><p>They rode to the rendezvous point, in the Heartlands. The closer they got to it, the more Arthur felt a sense of dread coiling itself in the pit of his stomach. Why would Colm want a parlay now? What had changed? Nothing as far as Arthur saw it.</p><p>“Im nervous.” Arthur told Dutch as they rode together.<br/>
“You won't even be in danger,” Micah said sharply, “you got that rifle dont you?”<br/>
Arthur sighed, “yes.”<br/>
“Oh my dear and trusted friend,” Dutch said, “with you watching over me, I would walk into hell itself.”<br/>
Arthur felt a small flutter of pride in his chest. Maybe he was just being too nervy. He wouldn't let anything happen to Dutch but he couldn't say the same for Micah...</p><p>Arthur did as instructed, waiting on a ridge with his rifle where he watched Micah and Dutch approach Colm and two of his men who were both armed. He couldn't hear what was being said. Something felt strange but Arthur couldn't put his finger on it. He kept asking himself, why now? Nothing had changed. If anything, the war between them was worse than ever, they’d killed a lot of O’Driscoll boys lately…<br/>
His finger hovered nervously over the trigger of the gun. </p><p>Arthur was suddenly alerted to footsteps behind him, as he turned around he was just in time to see the butt of a gun heading straight towards him. He didn’t have time to do anything before it connected with his face and he fell unconscious to the ground.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. We Protect Those as Needs Protecting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>He never forgot the way that Arthur used to look at him, with such adoration and wonder. Sometimes, he still caught it - a flash in Arthur’s eyes. Arthur could never hide anything from Dutch.  Now Arthur was grown, he didn’t need Dutch so much. But Dutch needed him.</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur awoke dazed, there were three men standing over him. He couldn’t focus his eyes on them, he raised his hands to his eyes that stung in the sudden bright light.<br/>
“Hello sugar,” one said, lifting Arthur’s face by the chin, Arthur squinted up at him but couldn’t make out any features - that blow to the head had really messed him up, “you ain't dead, is you?”<br/>
They laughed and began to stamp on Arthur, their boots connecting with his body like bugs under the hooves of bison. Arthur couldn’t call for help, he just let out yelps of pain until it all went black again.</p><p>The next time Arthur woke up, they were sitting away from him, their backs to him. He didn’t know where he was or how much time had passed. Daylight was dwindling now. Arthur wondered whether it was still the same day even. He was lying flat on his back on the ground, he could feel damp seeping through his shirt. There was a ringing in his ears. </p><p>“With this fella, we can draw them all back,” one was telling the others.<br/>
“This is him then?” another asked, “the one Dutch fucks?”<br/>
“That’s right.”<br/>
“I never had Dutch van der Linde down as some kind of deviant….”<br/>
“Apparently he fucks him<i>real good</i>, you know what I mean? Has done since he was a kid.” He spat on the ground, “perverse if you ask me.”<br/>
“Well once Van der Linde realises we got his man here, they’ll all come riding into the trap.”</p><p>Arthur’s whole body hurt. He couldn't focus on anything but he knew he had to get away.<br/>
He rolled onto his stomach and began to crawl, hoping they wouldn't see him but of course, they did. His vision was blurry. He heard one of them shouting “shoot him!”<br/>
Someone grabbed him and whirled him around and the last thing he remembered was gunfire and it all went dark again.</p><p> </p><p>++++</p><p> </p><p>Sadie was sitting with Karen who was guarding the front of the camp when Dutch and Micah returned. Arthur wasn’t with them.<br/>
“He was supposed to meet us at a crossroads but…” Dutch said to Hosea when asked where Arthur was.<br/>
Hosea frowned, “that’s not like him.”<br/>
“Maybe he rode on ahead,” Micah suggested “and went somewhere else?”<br/>
“Maybe…” Dutch murmured but he didn’t look convinced. </p><p>“What happened?” Hosea asked Dutch who sat down heavily at the table where Hosea had been playing dominoes with Tilly.<br/>
Dutch shrugged and lit up a cigar, “nothing happened. All a load of bluster on Colm’s part. A total waste of time.”<br/>
Hosea frowned. “What did he say?”<br/>
Dutch hesitated. “Nothin’. I apologised about his brother and he said nothin’, I asked if it was over and he laughed. I got no idea what it was all about… And I don’t like it.”<br/>
“I don’t like it either…” Hosea said quietly.<br/>
“Mr Smith,” Dutch called, “perhaps you could go and find Arthur?”<br/>
Charles who was chopping wood looked up and nodded, reading the expression on Dutch’s face instantly. Something was wrong, Sadie could sense it. Arthur was always by Dutch’s side and never left without saying where or how long for. If he had said he’d be at the crossroads, that’s where he’d be. </p><p>Sadie watched Dutch. He had removed his hat and jacket since getting to Clemens Point. It was hotter there. She could see the sweat glistening on his forehead. His brow furrowed. He looked anxious. He didn’t say anything while everyone else bustled around the camp like usual. With every passing minute, his expression grew darker and darker. Something was wrong. </p><p>++++</p><p>The sun woke Arthur. He sighed and rolled over. Dutch was beside him, also sound asleep. Arthur looked at Dutch’s face, calm, not furrowed in thought. He was serene and beautiful. </p><p>Arthur smiled to himself. His head hurt from the night before, the pair had drunk until they were giddy. He tried to remember what happened through the fog.<br/>
He remembered Dutch slamming him against the wall of the hotel room they were staying at in Saint Denis. Arthur had been quiet since they got to Clemens Point and Dutch had suggested they went somewhere, just the two of them. They found a place where they had drank whiskey into the night and talked about things that weren't the camp, Pinkertons or bounty hunters.<br/>
Dutch's strong hand pinned Arthur to the wall by his throat. Dutch kissed him hard and Arthur moaned into his mouth, “fuck me, Dutch. Fuck me, daddy.”<br/>
Dutch growled, “you drive me wild.”<br/>
The drink left Arthur with no inhibitions, no shame at begging. “Fill me up Dutch. Make me yours,” he whispered hotly. </p><p>Dutch didn’t hold back. Arthur remembered being pushed onto the bed, wrapping his legs around Dutch’s waist to hold him closer. He remembered his head spinning with pure, drunk lust. He drank in the sight of Dutch above him, his hair fell about his angular face in dark tresses, his eyes glimmering with a hunger that only Arthur could satisfy. </p><p>Arthur shook beneath Dutch, breath ripping out of him with each thrust, cussing and moaning. It made Dutch harder, drove him on in a flurry of passion, pounding into Arthur hard and fast, leaving bruising bites on Arthur’s throat and chest<br/>
“Tell me who you belong to” Dutch snapped<br/>
“You, “ Arthur gasped, “I'm yours.”<br/>
When Arthur called out Dutch’s name, it was music to his ears. </p><p>The sex was great. It always was. Arthur preferred the mornings. He loved to wake up next to Dutch, loved feeling Dutch’s warmth beside him like they were the only people in the world. Dutch would smoke or read while Arthur lay beside him drifting in and out of sleep, absentmindedly playing with his hair. Every now and then he would read a few lines to Arthur that he liked. Arthur would take Dutch’s free hand and link their fingers. He could pretend that they weren’t in a camp, they weren’t outlaws on the run. They were just together and nothing else, like they had all the time in the world. He could lie there forever…</p><p> </p><p>Arthur’s eyes flickered open. He wasn’t in the hotel room in Saint Denis - that was days ago. He was disorientated.  It was dark and smelled like dirt. His head throbbed but not from whiskey. He could see a shadowy figure standing before him.<br/>
“Dutch..?” He managed to whisper.<br/>
He tried to move but his body screamed in pain. It took him a moment to realise that he was hanging upside down by his ankles. He coughed and could taste the copper of blood in his mouth.<br/>
He could make out what looked like a small cellar, the stairs directly in front of him and it looked like it was evening outside. </p><p>“Arthur Morgan, good to see ya.” Colm O’Driscoll said. He was standing in front of Arthur, Arthur wondered how long he had been waiting there. Colm was a profoundly ugly man with ratlike features; he was skinny with scraggly hair and evil, grey eyes.<br/>
“Hello Colm,” Arthur replied,  his voice hoarse, he didn't want to show him that he was in pain, but of course he was.<br/>
“How's the wound?” Colm asked.<br/>
“Hardly feel it.” Arthur wheezed.<br/>
“You will,” Colm said menacingly. “Septic ain't nice. Now tell me, fine gun like you… Why you still running around with old Dutch? Come ride with me, you can make some real money.”<br/>
“It ain't about the money,” Arthur managed to splutter.</p><p>Colm laughed drily, “that's what I heard…” He kicked Arthur, Arthur let out another yelp of pain and his body convulsed. He coughed. His body screamed louder and he felt short of breath like he was going to pass out.<br/>
Colm was saying something, something about Six Point Cabin where he, Bill and John had gone weeks ago under the guidance of Kieran and killed a bunch of O'Driscolls and stole Colm’s money. Arthur had fetched himself a new gun, too and looted the place dry. </p><p>Colm was holding a gun nonchalantly. Arthur almost wished Colm would just shoot him and get it over with.<br/>
He wondered for a moment what it would feel like. Lord knows he’d pulled the trigger himself on other people but he’d never once thought how it felt. Would it hurt or would it be over too fast for him to even know? He closed his eyes and imagined it;  the crack from the gun echoing off of the small walls of the cellar, up the stairs and outside, the splatter that would paint the night sky crimson, just for a moment. And then maybe it would be peaceful, for once. His insides wouldn’t feel twisted and calloused all the time. He’d be free.</p><p>“Now... The way I see it, if I hand ol Dutch to the law... they forget about me.”<br/>
“They aint the forgetting kind,” Arthur rasped.<br/>
Colm ignored Arthur and continued, “lure an angry Dutch in to rescue you…” Colm said, walking his fingers down the length of Arthur’s torso so that Arthur flinched, “his <i>special boy...</i> And then we grab all of you! Hand you in and then disappear.”<br/>
“You only met with him to grab me?” Arthur asked, his head spinning, he felt dizzy and lightheaded.<br/>
“Of course!” Colm laughed, “he’s gonna be so mad!” Colm said with glee. “He’s gonna come raging over here… The whole lot of you. And the law’ll be waiting for him.”<br/>
“No..!” Arthur struggled futilely against his restraints.<br/>
“Oh Arthur,” Colm said, “I missed you.” He pistol whipped Arthur in the side and lower abdomen making Arthur cough up more blood then left the room. </p><p>He needed to get out. He had to go before Dutch came and was caught. Colm was probably right, Dutch would be so livid and would definitely send someone to get him, if not come himself to make a point… And if he did that, Pinkertons would be waiting. That would be the end.<br/>
Arthur looked around. He was hanging from his ankles which were chained to the ceiling. They’d stripped him of his clothes so he only wore his union suit. His guns and satchel were gone. He wondered if there was a way to undo the shackles but he was too weak to lift himself. He coughed again, more blood. His head spun. Dutch would be caught and hung and it would all be his fault. </p><p>This wasn't how it was supposed to end. He blacked out again.</p><p> </p><p>++++</p><p> </p><p>Dutch hadn’t moved since he had returned with Micah, he hadn’t been able to. A horrible hold had overtaken him, a feeling of intense dread. <i>Something is wrong</i>, his head kept repeating over and over until he couldn’t hear what Hosea was saying to him. </p><p>He’d felt the same back in Blackwater, only egged on by Micah. Had Arthur or Hosea spoken to him, it’s more than likely he wouldn’t have gone ahead with the plan at all. He put it down to him getting older and losing touch. Maybe that had spurred him on, to prove to himself that that wasn’t the case… But he messed up. Jenny, Davey and Mac were gone. The money was gone. He saw the way Hosea and Arthur looked at him now and he hated it, wanted to shake it out of them.<br/>
Arthur would say he still had faith, that he still loved him but there was something different about the way Arthur looked at him now… Like a light had been extinguished from those gentle eyes he loved so much. </p><p> </p><p>
  <i>Something is wrong, something is wrong, something is wrong!</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Dutch stood abruptly and Hosea looked up at him in surprise. “Dutch?”<br/>
“Something is wrong,” Dutch repeated quietly, more to himself than Hosea. “I… I gotta go find him, Hosea. This ain’t right.”<br/>
“At least wait for Charles. We can’t afford for you to lose your head before we know what’s going on.” </p><p>Just as Hosea said this, Charles’ horse came tearing into the camp. “Dutch!” Charles called, “Dutch! They took him!” Charles got down off of his horse, he rushed over to where Dutch stood, panting, “they took him, Dutch, the O’Driscolls took Arthur!”<br/>
Dutch's expression grew thunderous.<br/>
“I told you it was a trap!” Hosea said angrily, also getting to his feet, “and now look, they have our boy.” Hosea was probably the only person who could ever say <i>“I told you so”</i> to Dutch van der Linde and live to tell the tale. “They knew that you wouldn’t go anywhere without Arthur, the whole thing was a trap to get him. And now they’re using him as bait for some reason… They’re using him against us.” </p><p>“I’ll kill them.” Dutch said simply, “I’ll kill all of them… If they-  If they’ve hurt him…” His voice cracked and he trailed off. His eyes glittered with rage.<br/>
“Easy, Dutch,” Hosea said, laying a calming hand on Dutch’s chest.. “That’s what they’re expecting. No harm will come to him. They need him to get to you. You need to keep your cool. I’m not having the both of you hurt, it’s bad enough with the boy. I won’t see you get hurt too.”<br/>
“I wanna kill ‘em.” Dutch growled.<br/>
Hosea nodded and patted Dutch, “As do I. But we can’t. Don’t you always say that revenge is a luxury we can’t afford?”<br/>
“I can make an exception this time.”<br/>
Hosea opened his mouth, about to say something but Dutch had stormed over to his horse and was getting ready to saddle up. “You should stay here,” he called to Hosea. “You’re right - we can’t all get killed today.”</p><p>He then turned to the rest of the camp, “Charles, Lenny, Bill, Javier, John, Micah! Sean, too! Where's Sean?! We ride! Now!”<br/>
Micah didn’t stand, “old Cowpoke’ll be just fine,” he said.<br/>
“His name is Arthur,” Dutch roared. His eyes were wild. “Get off you ass and saddle up right now or you’ll regret it!”</p><p>John stumbled out of his tent where he’d been sleeping.<br/>
“W-what’s going on?” He asked, his voice husky and eyes blurry.<br/>
“The O’Driscoll’s took Arthur!” Lenny said, rushing past John to get to his horse.<br/>
“O’Driscolls?!” John repeated.<br/>
“I found where they’re holding him,” Charles called over to him, “but I can’t do it on my own. We need to go now!” </p><p>++++</p><p>Arthur was woken up by someone slapping him clean across the face. Arthur’s eyes snapped open and he gasped like he’d been wrenched out of ice cold water.<br/>
“Hey there, sugar.” It was the O'Driscoll from earlier.<br/>
Arthur struggled, “what do you want?” Arthur growled.<br/>
“Colm sent me here to make sure you don’t die while we’re waitin’ on your knight in shining armour.”<br/>
“Fuck you, O’Driscoll!” Arthur hissed venomously.<br/>
“Now now...” the man said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. Arthur couldn’t make his face out, his vision was still blurred and his eyes wouldn’t focus. “Thems ain’t nice words… Didn’t Dutch ever teach you manners.”<br/>
Arthur spat at the O’Driscoll and the O’Driscoll laughed.<br/>
“Feisty!” He exclaimed, “I like it.”</p><p>His hand held Arthur’s chin and pulled his mouth open, his fingers teased Arthur’s lips “show me what that mouth can do, boy…”<br/>
Before he knew it, he had forced his cock into his mouth. Arthur cried out again but his cries were muffled. Arthur gagged at the intrusion, he didn’t have time to react properly, the O’Driscoll’s cock hit the back of his throat, making Arthur’s eyes water.<br/>
The O’Driscoll thrust into Arthur’s mouth, taking a fistful of Arthur’s hair, gripping it tight to keep him in place while he did so. Arthur struggled, bringing his arms up to push the O’Driscoll away but he was weak and couldn’t fight. The O’Driscoll pulled out and struck Arthur across his face hard so that Arthur groaned and coughed, wheezing and panting, saliva running down his face.<br/>
“Quit fightin’” the O’Driscoll said gruffly before stuffing his cock back into Arthur’s mouth. “Come on, sugar. Now show me how you do it for Dutch.”</p><p>He was tired and his body hurt too much to take anymore beatings. Arthur closed his eyes tightly and sucked messily, moving his mouth up and down the shaft as best he could in the position he was in.<br/>
The O’Driscoll moaned, “that’s a good boy. I see why Dutch keeps you around.” He rutted into Arthur's open mouth, hitting the back of Arthur's throat over and over making Arthur cough and choke, saliva leaking out of the corners of Arthur's stretched mouth.  He couldn’t breathe. His eyes swam with tears. The O’Driscoll’s pubic hair scratched Arthur’s face and smelled bad. The taste was foul, sweaty and like piss, mingling with the taste of his own blood. Arthur gagged and retched.<br/>
“That’s right boy, take it.”<br/>
</p><p>It seemed to go on forever. After a while, Arthur's eyes glazed over, his jaw hurt just like the rest of him. He let the O'Driscoll push against him, fucking his mouth and throat to his heart's content. He moaned and swore., the pace was erratic. Arthur's body seemed to have shut down. Maybe this was it. He would die like this.<br/>
<i>It wasn't supposed to end like this...</i><br/>
As much as Arthur was exhausted and in pain, anger suddenly coursed through him. All those times he had been beaten when he was younger and he had vowed to himself he would become stronger… Didn’t this prove that he hadn’t? He couldn’t. He was still weak.<br/>
Dutch would often reprimand him for killing needlessly. <i>"I fear for you son,"</i> he would say, <i>"I fear that you... Enjoy it..."</i><br/>
Far from it. If someone was dead, they couldn't hurt him anymore. Simple. But he could never admit that to Dutch.  Others would call him cold or question him when he returned to camp covered in blood but Hosea seemed to know somehow.<br/>
<i>"Dutch always says he'll kill for this family,"</i> He had said to Arthur once, <i>"I know you do. I know you're just protectin' all of us."</i></p><p>
  He couldn't protect anyone like this, locked away and being fucked by an O'Driscoll. In a flash of rage,  Arthur bit down hard on the O’Driscoll’s dick.<br/>
The O’Driscoll screamed in pain and pulled out fast, swearing at Arthur. Arthur managed a laugh before he was beaten again, the O’Driscoll kicked him until he coughed more blood up and struggled to breathe once more.
</p><p>
 “Eoghan, what the hell are you doing down there?” A voice from the top of the stairs called.<br/>
“He bit me!” The O’Driscoll shouted back.<br/>
“Stop messin’ around and get up here. The boss wants a word.”<br/>
Arthur was left alone. He began to look around to plan an escape.
</p><p>
 
    ++++
 
</p><p>
 Dutch couldn't see straight. His mind was showing him memories of Arthur, like photographs. He could see all the times they spent together, Arthur laughing and smiling like a beacon of light. The times they fought and shouted, when Arthur would cry in frustration. The times they kissed like they were the only two people in the world. Dutch saw everything, he saw the small boy he saved, the teenager who had timidly asked him <i>"can I sleep with you, I feel safe with you"</i>, the young man who he had fallen for harder than anyone else in his entire life and now the Arthur who seemed so wracked with pain, pain that Dutch had caused him over the years...<br/>
And all of it would be gone if he didn't do something now to save Arthur.
</p><p>
  Maybe this was the world’s way of telling Dutch that he had to make it right. He had hurt Arthur so much over the years… Arthur had hurt him too. When Arthur had decided to run away with Mary...<br/>
Dutch had known Arthur would betray him sooner or later though he had expected it to be later rather than sooner.<br/>
When they found Arthur, he was a young boy who was very troubled. His heart was ensnared by pain and anger. No matter how pure he seemed, he was tainted from loss and suffering and abuse. He saw his father hang and before that he had beaten Arthur black and blue every day of his life because of the drink. Dutch thought he could change Arthur, make him happy… but maybe he couldn't. Maybe, for once he couldn't make things happen. 
</p><p>
 When they began a sexual relationship, Arthur seemed to get even worse. His mood swings were unpredictable and he wanted Dutch's attention all the time. Dutch initially found it endearing but it soon became tiresome. The relationship was intense in a way Dutch had not known before, maybe too intense. Maybe that was why Dutch started to see Susan. But soon she became tiresome too. He longed for Arthur again but Arthur had left the camp in a rage; there was talk of him marrying Mary. Dutch knew it wouldn't come to that, this was Arthur acting out to get Dutch's attention. Well he had it now.<br/>
When the engagement fell through, Dutch had decided he'd welcome Arthur back with open arms and condolences.<br/>
But it wasn't long after that when Dutch had net Annabelle, a beautiful red haired woman who seemed sweet on him. Truth be told, one of the reasons he found her so attractive was because she reminded him of Arthur in the beginning, compliant and oh so willing to please. But soon, once again, Dutch found himself growing tired of her too and longing for Arthur. But Arthur had gone because of John. Had he driven him away? They had rowed terribly, Dutch knew that Arthur was frustrated and that he wanted the sort of love story that he read about in the books that Hosea had taught him to read.  But that would never happen. They were outlaws. Two men. It was too complicated.
</p><p>
  
    He never forgot the way that Arthur used to look at him, with such adoration and wonder. Sometimes, he still caught it - a flash in Arthur’s eyes. Arthur could never hide anything from Dutch.  Now Arthur was grown, he didn’t need Dutch so much. But Dutch needed him.
</p><p>
  “Are you alright?” John’s voice snapped Dutch out of his daze. John was riding beside him, looking worriedly at him. They had all left camp and were following Charles' lead to where the O'Driscolls were holding Arthur. Dutch hadn't got much of a plan other than go in there and raise hell and kill every last O'Driscoll.<br/>
“Y-yeah.” Dutch said.<br/>
John’s light brown eyes seemed to search Dutch’s face. “We’ll get him back, Dutch.”<br/>
“I know, son.” Dutch replied but for once, he didn’t know at all.
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had a good reponse last chapter so I'm glad you're all enjoying it! It took a little longer than I planned to write this chapter but will most likely get the next one out on Tuesday or Wednesday once again. Comments and kudos are always appreciated - I love to hear feedback!<br/>Thanks for reading ^^*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Revenge is a Luxury We Can't Afford</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"Rumour has it, Arthur met some waitress and got her pregnant out west somewhere. She had the baby, a boy. Arthur decided to do right by her.”<br/>“He left the gang?” Sadie asked.<br/>“Not… exactly.” Karen replied, “he saw her when he could and sent ‘em money… Then one day, he turned up but they was both dead - murdered.”<br/>“Even the baby?!” Sadie gasped.<br/>“Even the baby.” Karen repeated, she lowered her voice still, now barely a whisper. “Now, who would be so desperate to do something like that? Who would want Arthur so badly to themselves?” </i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Karen lit up a cigarette, “you want one?” She asked Sadie.<br/>
Sadie shook her head. Her Jake had been a smoker and Sadie had hated it. She hated the smell, hated the taste, hated the way it lingers on your fingertips hours after you smoke it. Sadie would make Jake smoke outside, even when they moved up into the mountains. Jake would complain that Sadie would rather him be blown away in a snowstorm than have him stinking up her house. </p><p>Most of the men had left to get Arthur back. Hosea paced nervously by the water while Kieran tended the horses. Susan was shouting at Tilly over something or nothing. It felt like normal apart from it wasn’t. The tension in the air was almost touchable.</p><p>Sadie liked Karen. Karen drank a lot, she said what she liked, when she liked and to who she liked. Apart from Dutch. Karen kept out of his way. But she was funny and warm and liked to gossip.<br/>
Something Sadie had been thinking about lately was that if she thought that Arthur and Dutch’s relationship was odd then Hosea and Dutch’s was something else. Even more complex, if possible. </p><p>“Say,” Sadie said, “what’s the deal with Mr Matthews and Dutch?”<br/>
Karen smirked. She smoked on her cigarette thoughtfully. “Y’know… I always got the impression that Dutch loved Hosea.”<br/>
“Love?” Sadie repeated. “Like… Love?”<br/>
Karen laughed, plumes of smoke tumbling from her mouth. “Is there any other kind of love, Mrs Adler?”<br/>
Sadie shrugged. She guessed not.</p><p>“Well,” Karen continued, “I always thought Dutch loved him. I mean, they’ve been together for so long and… Have you ever noticed how Mr Matthews is the only one who can ever talk any sense into Dutch? He talks to him like an actual human being.”<br/>
Sadie had noticed. It was more subtle than Dutch and Arthur; a glance from Dutch here and there, his whole body would change when Hosea was around, like he was calmed. He smiled more, his voice changed, he laughed with sincerity.<br/>
“But…” Karen continued, “Hosea got married to a woman named Bessie - before my time. They tried to leave the life.”<br/>
“Dutch let him?” Sadie asked, sounding shocked.<br/>
Karen shrugged. “He’s still here though, ain’t he? Dutch woulda let him go but he came back. Dutch has that hold over people, y’know.”<br/>
“Was it… reciprocal?”<br/>
Karen shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, Hosea got married after all. Unrequited love is the worst, ain’t it?”</p><p>Sadie nodded. “I heard there was a woman called Annabelle..?”<br/>
It was Karen’s turn to nod. She flicked cigarette ash onto the ground as she spoke, “Dutch and Annabelle was a thing for a bit. ‘Til she realised Dutch weren’t about to give up Arthur for her. Then she left. I guess after Mr Matthews, it’s no wonder Dutch really got his claws into Arthur. He didn’t want no one else leaving him.” Karen looked like she was considering her words for a moment, “not that Arthur didn’t try… He proposed to that Mary woman but from everything I heard, that was never gonna work out. But there was someone else, too…”</p><p>Karen could tell that this had pricked Sadie’s attention. She continued, dropping her voice so that they weren’t overheard, “rumour has it, Arthur met some waitress and got her pregnant out west somewhere. She had the baby, a boy. Arthur decided to do right by her.”<br/>
“He left the gang?” Sadie asked.<br/>
“Not… exactly.” Karen replied, “he saw her when he could and sent ‘em money… Then one day, he turned up but they was both dead - murdered.”<br/>
“Even the baby?!” Sadie gasped.<br/>
“Even the baby.” Karen repeated, she lowered her voice still, now barely a whisper. “Now, who would be so desperate to do something like that? Who would want Arthur so badly to themselves?”<br/>
Sadie’s eyes widened. “Dutch?” She breathed.<br/>
Karen smiled darkly. “Exactly.” Then she laughed. “It’s only a rumour but… I wouldn’t ever put nothin’ past Dutch. Yeah, he saved us all and he makes sure we’re taken care of but make no mistake Mrs Adler, he’s a dangerous man.” </p><p>“If he’s such a dangerous man, why do you stick around?” Sadie asked.<br/>
Karen sighed. “If it weren’t for Dutch I’d either be dead or in some godforsaken whorehouse. I’ll get out of it soon enough. I’m gettin’ too old for all this runnin’. I wanna settle down and find a nice man and live some place quiet…” Karen suddenly looked across at Sadie, realising what she’d said, “I-I’m sorry Mrs Adler. I didn’t think.”<br/>
Sadie waved away Karen’s apology. “It’s a nice life to have. Go get it while you can.”</p><p>****</p><p>Arthur’s vision was cloudy but he focused as much as he could around the small room. There was the open door in front of him at the top of the stairs, to the right was a table with a candle burning, a small wooden stool beside the table. On the table, he could see gunpowder and  a metal file. If he could reach the file, maybe he could pick the lock on the shackles…</p><p>He reached out his right arm and a searing pain shot down his side. He suppressed a cry. He had to reach the file, it was the only thing that would get him out and stop the law from taking Dutch.<br/>
The pain made him lightheaded but he knew his best shot was to use momentum to help him reach across. It took a while, at one point, Arthur considered giving up but that anger still pulsed inside of him. He would not let himself be weak this time.<br/>
His fingertips grazed the side of the table. He swore to himself, his skin was slick with sweat; he wasn’t sure if it was from the effort or whether he was coming down with infection already. </p><p>One final swing, which seemed to take all his might, and he was able to swipe the file from the table. He wasted no time reaching up, he was shaking and the pain was unlike anything he’d felt before. His hands trembled and it took him a moment to be able to get the file into the lock. Once in, he twisted clumsily until he heard a click. The shackles released and he fell into a heap on the floor. He wheezed and crawled over to the stool, still gripping the metal file in his hand. </p><p>He knew what he had to do. When they were still at Horseshoe Overlook, Charles had returned with a wound in his leg from hunting. “It needs cauterising.” Charles had said.<br/>
“Cauterising?” Arthur repeated. “You’re gonna do that yourself?”<br/>
Charles shrugged, “it should stop the bleeding.”<br/>
Arthur had watched as Charles heated one of his knives in the campfire. Charles met Arthur’s gaze. “You never cauterised before?” He asked.<br/>
Arthur shifted, the idea of it made him queasy and it took a lot to do that to him. He shook his head.<br/>
“Well, you gotta heat up whatever you’re using. This knife is a blunt one that I haven’t gotten around to sharpening.” Charles told him, “then, you put it right on in the wound. It’ll hurt like hell and you’ll think you can’t take it but keep in until you feel like you’re gonna pass out. Then, the important thing is to seal it, that’s what helps stop the bleeding. You can use gunpowder.”</p><p>He had called Charles crazy but Arthur was the crazy one now. </p><p>The metal file glowed in the candle’s flame. Arthur took a deep breath before plunging it inside the gunshot wound in his shoulder.<br/>
It took all of him not to scream; he bit down hard on his lip, so hard he could taste blood again. He could see bright lights in front of his eyes. There was a high pitched ringing in his ears. The pain was a white hot burning, unlike anything he'd ever endured. Even the gunshot itself hadn’t been this bad.<br/>
He twisted the file, just as he had seen Charles do, rotating it fully before pulling it out. Arthur grabbed the gunpowder on the table, frantically opening it then emptying the contents over the wound before taking the candle shakily in his hands, wax dripping onto his fingers and sealing the wound. He masked another scream. Then it was over.<br/>
He sat on the stool panting, his head spinning. </p><p>Back to the task at hand. He rose from the stool using the wall to steady himself as he ascended the stairs. He staggered out into the night. He glanced around quickly, knowing he needed to take cover. The easiest option was to go into the trees directly adjacent to the cellar he’d just escaped from.<br/>
Arthur crouched at the foot of a tree, trying to organise his thoughts.</p><p>He could hear a group of O’Driscolls talking at a campfire nearby.<br/>
“Van der Linde sure is taking his time,” one complained.<br/>
“Maybe he ain’t comin’. I knew this was a bad idea. I don’t think we should be gettin’ involved with the law.”<br/>
“Colm knows best,” another said, “he reckons he can play Van der Linde.”<br/>
“Well he ain’t playin’ no one right now. No one’s comin’.”<br/>
“He’ll come. That down there is Arthur Morgan, Van der Linde’s finest gun and right hand man -not just some errand boy.”<br/>
“It’s probably time someone checked on him.”<br/>
Arthur’s heart was in his mouth, he had to get away and fast.<br/>
“I’m not going to check on him!” The first one exclaimed, “apparently he bit Eoghan’s dick right off!”<br/>
They all laughed.<br/>
“What was he doin’ with his nob in your man’s mouth in the first place?”<br/>
“Heard Morgan’s some kinda fag. They’re all sayin’ him and Van der Linde…”<br/>
More raucous laughter erupted from the group.</p><p>Arthur took this opportunity to stumble away towards what looked like a small shed. Maybe he could hide inside? His whole body pulsed with adrenaline. He wished he knew where he’d been taken to, then he would happily run off into the trees but he knew he wouldn’t make it on foot, not in his condition. He peered around the shed to see if there were any horses nearby but no such luck, just bright light from the campfires. </p><p>“He’s not there!”<br/>
“What?!”<br/>
“He’s gone!”<br/>
“He can’t have gone far. Everyone start lookin’ for him now!”<br/>
“Colm’s gonna lose it if he finds out!”</p><p> </p><p>“<i>Colm’s gonna lose it if he finds out</i> what?” came the drawl of Colm O’Driscoll’s voice sounding frighteningly near Arthur.<br/>
A sudden silence descended the group. Arthur peered around the shed again and saw that Colm was standing in front of it with his back to him, facing the cellar Arthur had just escaped from.<br/>
“We’re sorry boss. I don’t know how it happened-”<br/>
Colm struck the O’Driscoll who spoke with the back of his hand. He grabbed him by the collar, “you get out there and you find him, now!” He screeched. </p><p>Arthur ran frantically for the trees. The earth underfoot was damp and muffled his heavy footsteps. He staggered into the undergrowth, panting, his breath ripping out of his lungs. It hurt like hell. His mind was flying with a thousand thoughts. He had to get out, he had to get away, he had to save Dutch.<br/>
He felt tree roots beneath him and his feet tangled with them. He fell hard, winding himself. He couldn’t stop himself from crying out this time. </p><p>He couldn’t get back up. Arthur laid sprawled on his back, breathing hard. He let his  head rock back and looked up at the night sky. The stars looked beautiful. He could hear people approaching.</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>“What’s the plan, Dutch?” John asked as they stopped just outside of Hanging Dog Ranch.</p><p>It was a quiet spot, north of Strawberry. Dutch knew this is where the O’Driscolls hid out. It seemed too obvious to bring Arthur here… Something just didn’t feel right about this whole thing. </p><p>“I’m gonna go in there and get him.” Dutch said simply, “they won’t ever believe I came alone so one of you will have to come with me. I need a sharp shooter so it’ll have to be you, John.”<br/>
“Why not me, boss?” Micah asked indignantly.<br/>
Dutch whipped his head around to glare at Micah. “Pipe down. I’ve had enough of you today,” Dutch snarled. Micah quickly averted his eyes and sat back in his saddle dejectedly. </p><p>Dutch took a breath then continued, “we’re gonna cover every inch of this place so none of ‘em get out alive. Charles, get to higher ground to pick off the runners. Javier and Bill, take the right, Lenny, Sean and Micah take the left. Spread out but keep an eye on each other, I want them surrounded. Do you understand?”<br/>
“Yes, Dutch.” Came the collective reply.<br/>
“Arthur’s safety is paramount. You don’t shoot until I say so.”<br/>
“What’s the signal?” Javier asked.<br/>
Dutch thought for a second, running a hand through his hair. “When I thank Colm, that’s when you shoot the place up… But leave Colm. He’s mine.”<br/>
“Yes, Dutch.”</p><p>They dismounted and John followed him up the trail towards the hideout. It was a ranch that consisted of several different outhouses, a main farmhouse and a barn.</p><p>“He could be in any one of those,” John said gesturing to the nearest building, sounding exasperated.<br/>
“They’re gonna hand him over to us,” Dutch said, sounding certain but he was never certain walking into any situation like this. He could only play at being confident and hope that everything fell into place.<br/>
“Dutch, you sure about this?”<br/>
“John, quit your doubtin’!” Came Dutch’s quick reply, “they took Arthur, y’think I’m gonna let him just rot here? He’s your brother.”<br/>
John sighed, “I know. I’m just… It’s just what Hosea said about it being a trap.”<br/>
“It probably is but we’re prepared this time. You just concentrate on holding that shotgun and lookin’ menacin’.”</p><p>The trail opened up into a clearing and Dutch could see the house. There were several camp fires where Colm’s men were sitting. Waiting for Dutch. Dutch pushed his shoulders back and puffed his chest out, he wouldn’t have any of them smell any sign of weakness. </p><p>“Colm O’Driscoll!” Dutch called out. The camp was quiet, his voice carried. He saw Colm rise from a seat by the main camp fire in the centre of the clearing.<br/>
Dutch approached, flanked by John. He couldn’t see Arthur. Adrenaline was rushing through him but deep down, he was scared. Dutch had never admitted to anyone other than Hosea that he was scared before. But now he was. He was scared of the O’Driscoll’s intentions and what they might have done to Arthur. </p><p>“Dutch Van der Linde,” Colm said with a wry smile as he stood up, “to what do I owe the pleasure? We ain’t seen each other in years then I see you twice in as many days… And who have you brought with you? Is that little Johnny Marston?”<br/>
John stood squarely behind Dutch, finger resting on the trigger of the shotgun he held and glared at Colm.<br/>
“You know why I’m here, Colm.” Dutch said shortly, “you got my man. Give him back and no one need get hurt.”<br/>
Colm chuckled darkly, “you mean Mr Morgan? We’ve been takin’ real good care of him, don’t you worry.” He turned to a man who was sitting beside him at the fire. “Patrick, fetch Mr Morgan for Mr Van der Linde, will ya.”</p><p>Dutch and Colm locked eyes, Dutch only looking away as he saw Arthur being marched over to them by the O’Driscoll, Patrick.<br/>
Arthur seemed weak in a way that Dutch had never seen before. He wore only his union suit which was ripped in places and muddy. His feet were bare. There was blood down the side of his head and Dutch could clearly see a gunshot wound in Arthur’s shoulder. He missed his footing and tripped; the O’Driscolls roared with laughter as Arthur lay wheezing at Colm’s feet. </p><p>It took everything in Dutch’s power not to rush to Arthur. His jaw clenched and he balled his fists.<br/>
Colm saw and his smile grew only darker. “Get up, boy.” He ordered but Arthur didn’t. Dutch could see him straining for breath. Colm grabbed Arthur under the arm and wrenched him to his feet. He looked at Arthur almost thoughtfully.  “I do have to say, Dutch, that’s quite a resourceful boy you got yourself there. Put up a bit of a fight and even managed to break free. But my boys got him back, so I could safely hand him over to you.”</p><p>“Your <i>boys</i>,” Dutch repeated, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “how many <i>boys</i> does it take to take care of one man?”<br/>
Colm’s eyebrows narrowed momentarily. “He certainly put up a fight… But I think we kept him busy, didn’t we boys? I know he definitely had his mouth full at one point…”<br/>
Some of the O’Driscoll boys laughed. Dutch’s insides twisted.<br/>
“What the fuck does that mean?” John growled, shifting behind Dutch. </p><p>Colm laughed, “don’t you worry about it, Marston. Have him back, I think we’re done with him.”<br/>
Dutch glanced around quickly. Beyond Colm’s men, he could see Javier and Bill holding their position near the farmhouse like he’d asked, guns pointed towards the O’Driscolls. He could see Charles up on a ridge and then off to the left, he saw Lenny, Micah and Sean hiding in the trees. </p><p>Dutch walked over to Arthur and took him under the arm, away from Colm.<br/>
With his free arm, Dutch’s hand reached back and, as he said “I’d like to thank you, Colm, for your hospitality,” he drew his revolver and fired six shots in quick succession into Colm O’Driscoll’s chest.<br/>
It happened in slow motion after that. Colm staggered back, a look of surprise and utter horror on his ugly face. The blood exploded out of him Dutch smirked. </p><p>He moved quickly, dragging Arthur to the trees, he let Arthur fall against him as they took cover, gunfire ringing out across the ranch. </p><p>“You came,” Arthur rasped.<br/>
“Of course I did. I couldn’t leave you, son.” Dutch replied, he took Arthur’s face in his hands, “what have they done to you, my boy?”<br/>
“You came,” Arthur repeated. He seemed to be slipping out of consciousness. “Dutch… It’s a trap. They’re bringing the law,” he managed to say.</p><p>Dutch had figured as much. They could have taken him earlier but couldn’t risk Arthur shooting them all from the ridge. If it had gone to a shoot out, Dutch and Micah would have escaped unscathed. No, this way, not only did they insult Dutch, they got him mad enough to bring the whole gang - or near enough - to rescue Arthur. Colm knew Arthur was his weakness. Hosea too, but Hosea would never wander stupidly into the face of danger like Arthur. <i>Blind faith.</i> </p><p>“It’s going to be ok, I’m going to get you out of here, son” Dutch said to him, looking him in the eyes but Arthur wasn’t focused. He could hear Arthur’s chest rattling. A rage was climbing its way up from the pit of his stomach, slithering around his chest and into his throat like a serpent. How dare they do this to Arthur, who did they think they were? And did they not know who they were dealing with? He was Dutch Van der Linde and he would not be treated like this, certainly not from O’Driscoll scum.</p><p>John appeared beside him. “Is he ok?”<br/>
“Does he look ok?” Dutch said angrily. Now wasn't the time for revenge. He had shot Colm, he had paid for what he had done. He couldn't think any further than getting Arthur to safety and where he could be nursed back to health.</p><p>“What was that shit Colm said about his mouth being full… Did they..?” John started but Dutch raised a hand to silence him.<br/>
“This is hardly the time, boy. We have to get him out of here. He says the O‘Driscolls have got the law on the way so the quicker the better.” He stood and lifted Arthur over his shoulder with a grunt. “We need to get to the horses, cover us.”</p><p>Arthur was heavy but that didn’t matter. Dutch started back the way they came, navigating through the trees that ran parallel with the trail him and John had just walked up.<br/>
He could hear John behind him, picking off O’Driscolls who followed.<br/>
“They got Colm!” O’Driscolls were shouting.<br/>
Gun fire echoed off of the farm house and the trees. Men shouted and screamed as they got hit.<br/>
Dutch could hear Sean shouting “take that O’Driscoll scum!”<br/>
“Shit! It’s the law!” Lenny yelled, “we gotta go, we gotta go!”<br/>
“Where’s Arthur?” Javier shouted back.<br/>
“Dutch got him,” Sean replied. “We gotta go!”</p><p>Dutch could see his horse, The Count. He quickened the pace and managed to put Arthur on the back. Dutch mounted the horse and kicked him, “ya!”<br/>
He felt Arthur slump against him, arms wound around his waist holding on, scarcely. </p><p>John was hot on his heels, “there’s a ton of ‘em!” He called out to Dutch in front.<br/>
“Pinkertons?”<br/>
“Pinkertons, lawmen... Everyone who's anyone by the looks o' things!"<br/>
“Shit. Just get back to camp and we can regroup there, make sure we haven’t lost anyone.<br/>
John fell back.</p><p>“Dutch…” Arthur rasped again.<br/>
“Hush now, you’ll be ok. Save your strength.”<br/>
Dutch rode hard, urging The Count to go faster and faster. The bright white horse snorted, hooves hitting the ground hard. Dutch could still hear gunshots but it was further away now. Once they crossed the Dakota River, Dutch slowed down a little.<br/>
“I’m sorry, Arthur,” He said earnestly. “I feel like a fool."<br/>
Arthur’s head was resting on Dutch’s shoulder. “I’m alive,” came his reply  but he didn’t sound it. </p><p> </p><p>****</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi! I hope everyone's doing ok in these crazy times. I also hope you enjoy this chapter. As usual, expect the next one over the weekend. All feedback is welcome!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Curious Couple and Their Unruly Son</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Maybe Hosea should have left a long time ago but his love for Arthur and John kept him there. He still loved Dutch, of course but knowing that he could never give Dutch what he sincerely wanted hurt him and maybe that was why, despite all of Dutch’s crazy plans, Hosea had never tried hard enough to stop him.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>They were paying the price for that now.</i></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When they returned to camp, Hosea was waiting for them. Dutch got off of his mount first and pulled Arthur down carefully. Arthur’s clung onto him as if he were the only thing in the world as Dutch helped him over to his tent.</p><p>“Arthur!” Hosea exclaimed, “what happened to him? Is he-”<br/>
“He’ll be fine. He needs some medical attention and rest,” Dutch said and he called for Susan and Reverend Swanson. He wasn’t sure that Arthur would be fine but somehow, if he said it, maybe he could believe it.</p><p>“Dear lord…” Susan murmured, “I seen you get into some scrapes Mr Morgan but this is something else.”<br/>
Dutch managed to get Arthur onto his cot. He wasn’t sure even Arthur could hear Susan. “Stay with him,” Dutch told her.</p><p>Hosea buried his head in his hands. “I told you it was a trap,” he said again.<br/>
“Bein’ right ain’t helping no one right now,” Dutch said hotly, “just pack up, we gotta go.”<br/>
The others were beginning to return to camp, first Javier followed by Sean, Charles, Lenny, Bill and John. </p><p>“Where will we move to?” Hosea persisted.<br/>
“I-I don’t know, Hosea… I just need some time.” Dutch stammered, he hadn’t moved since they got back, rooted to the spot watching Susan hold Arthur’s hand and talk to him.<br/>
“Sounds like we don’t have much time,” Hosea said urgently, looking over at Arthur too. “He’s in a bad way.”</p><p>“Arthur and I found this house out near the swamp, called Shady Belle.” Lenny offered. “We kicked out the former residents. We could move there. It’s secluded enough.”<br/>
“You’re sure about this, Lenny?” Dutch asked.<br/>
Lenny nodded. “I’m sure. It’ll be better for Arthur, too. He won’t be out in the open.”<br/>
“I don’t know…” Hosea said quietly.<br/>
“What else can we do, Hosea?!” Dutch snapped, “we can’t stay here. We’re like sitting ducks.” He turned to Lenny, “if you’re sure, then you ride ahead with Javier and Bill, make sure it’s clear and we’ll follow.”<br/>
Lenny nodded.</p><p>Dutch addressed the camp. “Everyone, listen up. We’re leaving here, now! Pack everything you can as quick as you can. Today has been… Well… It could have gone much better. But  I need you all to stay strong! Stay with me!” </p><p>With that, the camp began to bustle, people were shouting instructions over one and other, disassembling things and loading them onto wagons.<br/>
“Micah hasn't come back yet,” Pearson observed.<br/>
“With any luck, the O’Driscolls got hold of that oily turd,” Sean said gruffly as he helped Pearson loading the wagon of food.<br/>
“Sean!” Karen exclaimed.<br/>
“What?” Sean asked, “it’s not like you like the feller. None of us do.”<br/>
“I know but…”<br/>
“Should someone go find him, Dutch?” Sean enquired, looking over to Dutch.<br/>
Dutch shook his head, “not right now. We… We got other things to worry about,” he said, eyes still fixed on Arthur. </p><p>The gang had become accustomed to packing up and leaving quickly. It took an hour or less for the caravan to get moving down to Shady Belle.</p><p> </p><p>Hosea was talking to Dutch en route, yapping in his ear but he couldn't concentrate. He remembered vaguely that someone told him that Micah had caught up with the others and rode on ahead to Shady Belle. But Dutch's mind and body was buzzing, buzzing with thoughts that he couldn’t arrange. His hands shook as he held the reigns of The Count. His whole body felt like it had been electrified. </p><p>Dutch could see Arthur lying so weak and helpless on the ground at Colm O’Driscoll’s feet, he saw him gasping for breath and broken; he saw the scarlet blood explode from Colm’s chest, yet he didn’t feel better about it.<br/>
He felt nothing. He felt numb.<br/>
They weren’t in the revenge business but he hadn’t been able to control himself, the fury inside of him ignited so fast, like a strike of a match. Some things were sacred. </p><p>
  <i>“He certainly put up a fight… But I think we kept him busy, didn’t we boys? I know he definitely had his mouth full at one point…”</i>
</p><p>Dutch dared not think about what that meant but it didn’t mean that he could stop the images flooding his mind, like a river that had burst its bank.<br/>
He saw Arthur on his knees in front of faceless O’Driscolls, they forced his mouth, made him choke and gag. He put up a fight but was powerless, he’d been beaten and shot, of course he couldn’t fight even though Dutch knew he’d have tried his damnedest to do so.<br/>
He saw Colm wrenching Arthur’s head back, fucking his face and laughing, they all laughed.</p><p>That thunderous expression returned to his face, all his features became darker, his chest became tighter. Brow narrowed, eyes hard as stone. Shooting Colm wasn’t enough. They would pay for what they did, all of them. </p><p>Dutch saw that young boy who had crept into his tent after dark, shaking and scared, <i>“I feel safe with you,”</i> he’d said to Dutch and Dutch had vowed to protect him. Always. Just as Arthur had vowed to always have faith in him.<br/>
Dutch had broken that vow. </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>Shady Belle was an old plantation house that had fallen into disrepair but Lenny was right, it was well hidden and would be easy to defend. Lenny, Javier and Bill were waiting for them when they arrived. They rode through the night, everyone was exhausted.</p><p>“It’s clear,” Javier had told Dutch as they rolled in.<br/>
“I think Arthur could use one of the bedrooms in the house,” Lenny added, “it might help him recover faster.”<br/>
Dutch nodded. He couldn’t hide the expression on his face, he was touched that Lenny cared so much for Arthur despite only being with the gang for a year. Maybe Lenny was better equipped to look after Arthur than he was…</p><p>Susan made up one of the bedrooms for Arthur, like Lenny suggested. It was small but Arthur’s cot fit just fine in the corner. There were large windows that streamed daylight in and it was in the early morning sunlight that Dutch could see the full extent of Arthur’s wounds as Susan undressed him so she could tend to him properly.</p><p>The gunshot was red and angry on his shoulder. It looked like Arthur had clumsily cauterised himself. His entire torso was mottled with painful bruises of red and purple.<br/>
Dutch’s whole body shook with rage.  He was lost for words, he couldn’t think, all he could do was stare and stare, the image of Arthur’s broken body searing itself into his retina so when he closed his eyes he could still see it. Was this his fault? </p><p>“You rest up,” Susan said to Dutch, “we’ve put you in the room across the hall there.”<br/>
Dutch knew better than to argue with Susan Grimshaw and right now, he was at a loss for words to argue.</p><p>He lay on his cot and fell into a troubled sleep, haunted by <i>that</i> scene. Arthur, helpless and Colm O’Driscoll laughing.</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>Over the next few days, Arthur slipped in and out of fevered sleep.<br/>
Hosea had never seen Dutch like this before; he barely spoke a word to anyone. His dark eyes swam in sorrow. It was the guilt, Hosea knew that much. The guilt was devouring him.<br/>
Dutch didn’t need to say anything though, Hosea knew that he was terrified of losing Arthur. </p><p>Dutch had been his best friend for twenty years, maybe at one point there could have been more than that but Hosea had put a stop to it. Maybe he’d been too scared to go down that route. He’d seen Dutch broken then, brokenhearted but too in love to let Hosea go so they stayed as friends, even if Hosea could sense a new meaning to everything Dutch said, a loss, an aching, a bitterness.  It had never truly gone away. </p><p>Maybe that was why he had lavished affection on the boy so much; Arthur had been young, wide eyed and innocent, perfect for Dutch who thrived off of undivided love and devotion, and devoted Arthur was.</p><p>Hosea had seen exactly what was going on and did nothing about it. He’d been too concerned with trying to get Bessie and him out of the life. That of course only made Dutch worse, pulling Arthur closer to him and making him more and more acrimonious towards Hosea. Sure, Dutch took lovers, Hosea had often wondered whether that was to prove something to Hosea and to himself, too. But no matter how hard he tried, he always found his way back to Arthur. </p><p>The betrayal that Dutch must have felt at Hosea wanting to leave had never truly healed. Hosea knew that but he also knew that the feelings Dutch had for him had never died either and that was why he hadn’t been sent packing like all of Dutch’s ex lovers or anyone else in camp who had gotten on the wrong side of him.<br/>
Dutch  would spout his usual words, <i>”we are better off together, if we start cutting loose, they’ll pick us off like sickly bison.”</i><br/>
It seemed that Dutch didn’t think this way when it came to certain people like Molly O’Shea and even Annabelle…</p><p>Maybe Hosea should have left a long time ago but his love for Arthur and John kept him there. He still loved Dutch, of course but knowing that he could never give Dutch what he sincerely wanted hurt him and maybe that was why, despite all of Dutch’s crazy plans, Hosea had never tried hard enough to stop him.<br/>
They were paying the price for that now.</p><p>****</p><p>Dutch sat by Arthur’s bed day and night. He couldn’t leave Arthur, couldn’t leave the boy’s side. Every time he did, something went wrong - look at Blackwater and now this.<br/>
Arthur would toss and turn, moaning softly as he did so. Sometimes he’d wake up in a panic, panting and disoriented, thinking he was back at the O’Driscoll camp.</p><p>Arthur spoke but it didn't make sense, his words jumbled and trailing off. He’d call for Dutch or beg someone to stop.<br/>
Dutch felt sick hearing this but he would reassure him, Arthur's eyes would flicker open but Dutch wasn't sure if Arthur was seeing him.<br/>
“You’re ok son,” Dutch would whisper softly and stroke his hair gently to soothe him. He’d tenderly wipe Arthur’s brow, dabbing the sweat with a cold press until Arthur drifted off into another fevered sleep.</p><p>One night, Arthur had a fever so bad Dutch thought this was the end. He had never been a religious man but he found himself praying silently that if he couldn’t, then maybe God could protect Arthur. Dutch knew that only fools turned to God in a crisis, when all else had failed. But what was he now, if not a fool?</p><p>Arthur burned up, then shivered violently. Dutch wrapped him in blankets and lay beside him on the bed, an arm across him, holding him close to his chest like he used to when Arthur was young.<br/>
“Don't give up on me, Arthur,” he urged him, “please… don't give up on me.”<br/>
So many others had.</p><p>He held Arthur all night and didn’t sleep. </p><p>He found himself remembering  the first time they came across Arthur.<br/>
Hosea had heard about a homestead out in the country, a good haul by all reports and the family were going out of town that weekend. “We wait until they’re gone,” Hosea insisted, “I don’t want anyone getting hurt or killed unnecessarily.”<br/>
Dutch had rolled his eyes but had never denied him.</p><p>Twenty years ago, Hosea had been a handsome young man in his early thirties. Still lean like he was now, his face was angular, he had sharp, high cheekbones and vivid blue-grey eyes. His hair had been light blond, always kept short unlike Dutch’s dark, curled tresses.</p><p>The pair waited until they had seen the family that lived there leave, Hosea watched the house like a hawk all day while Dutch read his book and dozed at the makeshift camp they’d set up. </p><p>“No one’s been in or out, no lights on and no one at the windows… I think we’re good to go.” Hosea said, peering through his binoculars again. They waited until nightfall, covering their faces with bandanas then headed up to the old farmhouse.<br/>
“You take the upstairs,” Dutch instructed. He cleaned out the living area where he found a few bill folds and food supplies.<br/>
He heard Hosea walking about upstairs.<br/>
“You found anything?” Dutch called up to him.<br/>
“Yeah… there’s some stuff here I’d say but-”</p><p>Hosea was cut off. Dutch heard a cry and then a scuffle. He darted upstairs, drawing his gun, “I thought you said this place was empty!” He called as he burst into the room where the noise was coming from - a small bedroom towards the back of the property.</p><p>Dutch was greeted with the sight of Hosea wrestling with someone, a young man, no a boy, by the looks of him. He had got Hosea from behind and they were struggling in a headlock.</p><p>Dutch intervened, grabbing the boy who shrieked and flailed but Dutch was both stronger and taller than both of them. He handled the boy with ease, like one of Hosea’s rabbits they caught when out hunting and was able to pull him off of Hosea. It was his turn to hold the boy in a headlock.</p><p>“Calm down, son.” Dutch was saying to him. The boy continued to struggle and fight against Dutch, shrieking and kicking. Dutch could feel the boy’s small body shaking as he held him.</p><p>Hosea caught his breath and looked up at the boy.<br/>
“Let me go!” The boy was crying.<br/>
“Just calm down, boy,” Hosea said, “we ain’t here to hurt ya. Calm down.”</p><p>After a few minutes, he stopped. He looked like he’d exhausted himself.. Dutch let him go and he backed away from both Hosea and Dutch.<br/>
Dutch could look at him properly now. He was skinny but tall, he had long, messy, blond hair, his eyes were bright blue and fearful bursting with anger.</p><p>“We mean you no harm, son,” Dutch said carefully, edging towards him but the boy backed away still, he was panting and Dutch could see that he was afraid. The boy continued to move away until his back connected with the bedroom wall and he had nowhere else to go.</p><p>“He came out of nowhere,” Hosea said, rubbing his neck where the boy had had his hold on him.<br/>
“This your house, boy?” Dutch asked him.<br/>
The boy shook his head hesitantly.<br/>
Dutch sighed, “then what are you doin’ here? You lootin’ the place?”<br/>
He shook his head again. “I-I just needed someplace to stay.” He said. His voice sounded small. His large eyes held Dutch’s gaze, as if they were trying to tell him something but Dutch wasn’t sure what. </p><p>The boy swallowed. His clothes didn’t fit properly, his pants too big, his belt wrapped around him twice. His shirt was worn and ripped in several places. He looked dirty, like he hadn’t had a bath in weeks or eaten a good meal in the same amount of time or longer.</p><p>Hosea turned to Dutch, “we’ll do what we came to do and just get out of here.”</p><p>Dutch was still looking at the boy. “What’s your name, son?” He asked, his tone changed markedly. He spoke softer, like coaxing a small animal out of its den. </p><p>The boy hesitated, chewing nervously on his full bottom lip before he answered. “Arthur.”<br/>
“And how old are you, Arthur?”<br/>
Arthur shrugged.<br/>
“Your parents? Are they around?”<br/>
Arthur shrugged again and dropped his gaze to the floor.<br/>
Dutch looked back at Hosea. “We can’t just leave him here.”<br/>
Hosea frowned, “Dutch… We ain’t exactly in the business of adoptin’ kids.”<br/>
“I can take care of myself. I don’t need no one.” Arthur said hotly. </p><p>Dutch didn’t know why he felt so strongly that he couldn’t leave this boy, Arthur, there alone in the house. Maybe because he had been young and alone once. </p><p>He had left of his own choice, however rash and hormone fuelled that may have been. His mother and him never really got along and his father had never been much of a father.<br/>
Dutch knew how it could be alone. It could be scary, he’d grown wise very quickly that most of the adults he met had never had good intentions towards him.</p><p>“How you been survivin’, son?” Dutch asked him.<br/>
Arthur shrugged again, “jus’ takin what I need, I guess.”<br/>
“Hosea… We can’t just leave him. He’s a kid.”<br/>
Hosea sighed in frustration, “listen, we’ll take him back to his folks, how about that? Is that our good deed for the day, Dutch?”<br/>
“I-I ain’t got no folks no more.” Arthur said quietly. He was looking down at the floorboards, his cheeks were flushed pink in shame.</p><p>“We can’t just leave him, Hosea.” Dutch repeated.<br/>
“I never knew you had such a... fatherly urge, Dutch.”<br/>
Neither did Dutch. He just had a feeling. That’s what he’d always tell Hosea. Hosea had grown accustomed to Dutch’s feelings about things in the coming years and usually, when Dutch had a feeling, he wouldn’t let go - like a wolf with a deer. </p><p>That was how they had become the curious couple and their unruly son.</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p>Just over a week had gone by and Arthur seemed like he was getting better. He was able to sit up and eat unaided. He told Dutch to go get some sleep, “you look like shit, Dutch,” he’d said, his voice still hoarse and raspy.<br/>
Dutch laughed. The first time he’d laughed in days. Dutch wanted to say so much to Arthur. He wanted to say everything but lately, he couldn’t find the words.</p><p>“What… What happened, son?” Dutch asked him, apprehensively. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.</p><p>Arthur shrugged then winced at the pain. “Grabbed me right when I was on that ridge. Beat the shit outta me and took me back to their camp. Tied me up by my ankles and Colm told me the whole thing was a trap. They’d been workin’ with the Pinkertons or somethin’. Wanted to catch you, catch all o’ us.”</p><p>Dutch swallowed. “I’m sorry, son.” He didn’t want to ask but he had to know. “Colm… Colm said something about… Well… What they did to you… He said ... Did they..?” He couldn’t find the words. But he didn’t have to, the pained look in Arthur’s eyes told him everything he needed to know.<br/>
“I…” Arthur started. “I don’t wanna talk ‘bout that.”</p><p>Dutch closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry, son.” He repeated.<br/>
“I’m alive, ain’t I?” Arthur replied, trying to sound casual but Dutch knew it was anything but that.<br/>
Dutch rose from where he sat. “Rest up,” he said to Arthur but couldn’t meet his eye, “I need you strong.”<br/>
“Dutch…” Arthur said, his voice small as Dutch reached the door.<br/>
Dutch turned back. He could almost see the boy he met twenty years ago sitting in the bed across from him. “I…love you.”<br/>
It should have made Dutch happy. It should have affirmed to him that it was alright despite the atrocities that had happened. Arthur still loved him. Always would. Always.<br/>
But he felt nothing but guilt and anger and sickness. He hadn’t been able to protect Arthur.</p><p>“And I love you too, son.” Dutch replied before leaving the room.</p><p> </p><p>He went outside; he needed air, needed to think but almost instantly Hosea had appeared before him.<br/>
“I hear you shot Colm O’Driscoll,” Hosea said, sounding contemptuous.<br/>
Dutch looked at Hosea, his eyes tired and dead. “I did what was necessary.” He replied.</p><p>Maybe Dutch had become complacent. He had taken Arthur for granted. Arthur had been beside him for twenty years after all… But so had Hosea and Dutch had pushed him away.</p><p>“You did what was necessary?” Hosea repeated, “shootin’ up Colm O’Driscoll and his boys was necessary, was it?”<br/>
Dutch’s eyes flashed. Teaming with emotions, each battling each other to win the foreground but none did. Indistinguishable. But Hosea knew that he wasn’t happy. Dutch hadn’t been happy in a long time. </p><p>“What happened to us, Hosea?” Dutch asked. A loaded question, Hosea knew only too well.<br/>
Hosea shrugged. “I became old and weary, I suppose... I just  don't wanna see no more people dyin’ or gettin’ hurt,” he said, gesturing back towards the old plantation house, towards Arthur.<br/>
“And you think I do?” Dutch’s voice bristling with rage<br/>
“No. I don't think so. I just…” Hosea seemed to struggle to find the words to finish his sentence</p><p>Dutch couldn't pretend that it didn’t hurt. His dear friend, someone he had admired and adored, for so long, doubting him. Dutch had seen the change in him, in his light eyes that used to burn with passion, now they were cold and tired. It hurt that Hosea didn’t believe in him, hurt that his dearest friend thought so little of him now when they had once been so, so close. Dutch longed for that again even though he knew that it was a hopeless dream. </p><p>“I… Dutch, it’s just… All that trouble in Blackwater. Now you’re riding into obvious traps with all of the boys, shooting up Colm and his men…”<br/>
“It ain’t like that! They..! They took Arthur, Hosea! You think I was about to leave him?!”<br/>
Hosea sighed, “they wouldn’ta killed him. It wouldn’t suit them, they needed him alive to get to you and they got to you, Dutch.”<br/>
“Right now, Arthur is all I have,” Dutch said.</p><p>The words hit Hosea like a speeding bullet. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.<br/>
He supposed it was what he deserved, he’d married, tried to leave and tried to get others to do the same. It was only a matter of time before Dutch lost his patience with him even if he didn’t have the heart to cast him out alone.<br/>
Dutch didn’t see him as an ally anymore. More of someone he had to have along, otherwise he’d be a sickly bison...</p><p>Dutch walked away and Hosea didn’t follow him. It wasn’t until the next morning, Micah was looking for Dutch only to discover his bed hadn’t been slept in and his horse was gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So this turned out a hell of a lot more angsty than I intended! But I enjoyed this update and I hope you do too. I had some wonderful comments lately, it really means a lot that people are not only taking time out of their day to read this but also to say such kind things to me and encourage me to keep on with this fic as I was doubting myself last week.</p><p>Anyway, the next update will most likely be at the weekend or sometime early next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Of Bad Men and Ghosts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>As the train left the station, for the first time that Arthur could remember, he smiled. He had done it. He had gotten away. </i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>I am going to die,</i> Arthur had thought to himself when one  of Colm’s men caught up with him and dragged him back into the camp. They pistol whipped him until Arthur could only see colours.<br/>
He heard Colm shouting, “I need him alive, you pissant!” </p><p>
  <i>I am going to die and they’ll get Dutch. They’ll get everyone because I wasn’t strong enough. I'm still not strong enough.</i>
</p><p>Arthur didn’t know where he was but he let his head hang forward and let himself sleep.<br/>
He didn’t know if he was dreaming or not. </p><p>He saw his father standing before him.</p><p> </p><p>Lyle Morgan had met Beatrice when she was just fifteen. By the time she was sixteen, she was pregnant with Arthur. Lyle was nineteen at the time. He proposed to her because it was the thing to do. At one point, he might have loved her, if he truly loved anything, but by the time Arthur was born, all that changed.</p><p>Arthur had always resented how much he looked like his father. He had his father’s aquamarine eyes, same nose and physique. He was reminded of his father every time he looked in the mirror, reminded of the man who had ruined his childhood and caused him a lifetime of pain and suffering.</p><p>Arthur’s mother was kind, from what he remembered but he only remembered very little; the sound of her voice as she sang whilst doing her needlework, the smell of her breast, the flowers she liked to keep… But he couldn’t remember her face, that’s why he kept her photograph with him.  He was saddened that when he looked into her light eyes and searched her soft, round face, he felt nothing; no recognition or memories. </p><p>He didn’t remember how she had died and his father never talked about it, only when he was drunk and decided to take it out on Arthur, grabbing him by the throat and choking him, “it shoulda been you, you worthless piece o’ shit.” He’d hiss in Arthur’s face.<br/>
“I’m sorry,” Arthur would sob until he couldn’t breathe.<br/>
Sometimes he would wake up on the floor with no memory of how he got there or why his body hurt. Other times, he didn’t pass out and he remembered the beatings; Lyle would hit Arthur repeatedly in the face, in his stomach until Arthur coughed and wheezed. He’d strip him and burn his cigarettes out on him or lash him with his belt until he drew blood.</p><p>Their small ranch house had only one room with one bed. If Lyle was feeling generous, he’d let Arthur sleep beside him or on the floor. Other times, if he was drunk or angry having lost all his money at poker or blackjack, he’d lock Arthur in the coal cellar beneath the floorboards of the house.<br/>
Arthur was terrified of that cellar, it was damp, dark and cold and there were spiders inside. Lyle knew how scared of the cellar Arthur was and would often use it as a punishment. </p><p>“You call this food?” Lyle snapped, looking at his plate when Arthur had tried to cook once. No one had ever taught Arthur how to cook and he couldn’t read his mother’s old cook books that she’d left behind so he had to do his best by looking at the drawings that accompanied the recipes.<br/>
“Tastes like shit!” Lyle spat out the food, dashed the plate onto the floor and slapped Arthur across the face. Arthur was too small and weak to fight back, too scared. He knew struggling only made his daddy’s temper worse.</p><p>He had picked Arthur up by the scruff of his neck like a feral dog and thrown him into the cellar.<br/>
There was no point trying to escape, Lyle would drag a chair or some other heavy furniture over the door so that Arthur couldn’t open it and he could only get out when Lyle decided. He was often down there for a couple of days at a time, forced to sit in his own mess, dehydrated and so, so cold. </p><p>Sometimes Arthur would still dream about being locked in there, pounding on the trap door, screaming to be let out but no sound left his mouth. He’d wake drenched in sweat and feel beside him to find Dutch.<br/>
“‘Nother dream?” Dutch would mumble sleepily.<br/>
Arthur didn’t have to say anything, Dutch would hold him until he drifted off to sleep again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>Dutch…</i>
</p><p>Arthur had never really told Dutch what had happened with his daddy. He’d been embarrassed and ashamed. He’d never told Dutch that it became commonplace, when Lyle came home drunk, for him to force Arthur face down into the bed and use him like one of the working girls he would bring back with him sometimes.</p><p>For the most part, Arthur couldn’t remember it - maybe he’d blocked it out. He couldn’t describe what happened in detail anymore. He remembered it hurt like a burning that made him sob drily into the thin mattress, he remembered wishing it would stop but it never seemed to end fast enough. He remembered small things too, like the musky smell of the sheets, the colour of Lyle’s shirt or photograph of Lyle and Beatrice’s wedding day that sat beside the bed that he would stare at with his eyes glazed over while Lyle violated him.<br/>
Arthur soon learned to focus on the sounds he could hear outside of the house - birdsong or the sound of the rain on the roof - it gave him a much needed distraction. </p><p>The pain had merged into one continuous ache over time. But the confusion and shame attached to it didn’t, it was still as raw as ever. Was this what happened with all fathers and their sons? Arthur had no friends to ask, his daddy made sure of that.<br/>
As he grew older and thought back to it, he realised that Lyle must have been ashamed too. Why else had he faced Arthur down? Because he couldn’t bear to see the look in Arthur’s eyes while he did the unspeakable to him. </p><p> </p><p>
  <i>“He’s gone, Arthur. I’m your daddy now and I ain’t ever gonna hurt you.”</i>
</p><p>“Is he any different to me?”<br/>
Arthur’s eyes opened slowly. It was light. This didn’t look like the O’Driscoll’s ranch. He didn’t know where he was. He was still tied up, arms behind his back where he sat.  Lyle looked back at him. Arthur  couldn’t speak for a moment, “d-daddy?”</p><p>He looked just like Arthur remembered, tall and muscular with dirty blond hair and the eyes that the pair shared. Still as cold as ever as they returned his son’s gaze. He wore his hat - Arthur’s hat - and it cast menacing shadows across his callous face.</p><p>Lyle rolled his eyes and paced before Arthur, “I ain’t yer daddy. Never have been. Never wanted no baby but…” He shrugged and let himself trail off. He turned back to look at Arthur, “is he any different to me? Dutch?”<br/>
Arthur frowned, staring up at Lyle. “I don’t understand...”<br/>
“Answer the damn question, boy!” Lyle snapped and Arthur was transported back to being eight years old and crying as Lyle had smashed the dinner plate on the floor.</p><p>Arthur glared at his daddy, his abuser. He had spent the past twenty years blocking it out, shaking it away when he woke up after having dreamed about it again. It was what it was, and he couldn’t change that. Lyle Morgan was a bad man and Arthur had followed in his daddy’s footsteps only he killed people, some innocent, some not so, rather than attacking children.<br/>
Other times, he’d think about it. Why had Lyle done it? Why had he beaten him and forced him to lie down for him? Was he perverted? Was it the drink? Arthur never got his answer.</p><p>“Dutch is worth ten of you.” Arthur shot back.<br/>
Lyle sneered, “he’s not so different to me at all, boy. You just don’t see it.”<br/>
Arthur shook his head. “He’s coming for me.” He said but his voice wavered a little with uncertainty.</p><p>Arthur could hear birdsong and water in the background, as if there were a river or stream nearby. Underfoot, he felt soft grass and could feel the sun on his face.<br/>
“Where am I?” He asked but Lyle ignored his question.<br/>
“He said he’d never hurt you and you believed him.” Lyle mocked.<br/>
“He wouldn’t. He hasn’t!” Arthur replied hotly, trying to stand, to square up to Lyle but he couldn't, his body was on fire with pain still. </p><p>Lyle laughed, throwing his head back. When he looked back at Arthur, his eyes had changed, dark and wild, <i>“don’t you ever forget yourself again, boy.”</i> But the voice wasn’t Lyle’s, it was Dutch’s.</p><p>Arthur shook his head, the memory of being pushed against the tree, the bark digging into his skin as Dutch slammed into him  and fucked him hard and rough began to paint itself in Arthur’s mind.<br/>
“That…” Arthur started, squeezing his eyes shut as if by doing so, he could make the memory disappear. “That’s different, " Arthur finished pathetically.<br/>
It was different. It was. Wasn’t it..?</p><p>Arthur had been seventeen. Old enough to have known better than to antagonise Dutch. Arthur had provoked Dutch. It was different. When Lyle had done it, Arthur had been a small child who didn’t know better, hadn’t understood what was happening. With Dutch, Arthur understood that his actions had consequences…<br/>
It was different. It was. </p><p>Dutch had  been tender afterwards and apologetic. Arthur forgave him, of course, but there had been a look in Dutch's eyes, a look that reminded him so bad of his daddy…</p><p>“It was different.” Arthur repeated louder, as if by doing so it would make him believe it.</p><p>Lyle’s eyes had changed, changed back to the blue-green that Arthur remembered them to be. They stared back into Arthur’s as they always had - soulless and angry. Unforgiving. He hated Arthur and always had. It had taken Arthur all of his life to realise that no matter that he had done, it would never have been enough.</p><p> </p><p>When Arthur had turned twelve, he ran away. Lyle came home one night, pinned him to the bed as he often did and raped Arthur for the last time. Arthur didn’t struggle or fight but in his head, he came up with a plan: he would wait for Lyle to sleep, which wouldn’t take long, most of the time when he was finished with Arthur, he’d roll over and pass out from the drink anyway. After that, Arthur would take whatever he could - food, money and any valuables that he could sell then he would head west, as far away from Lyle Morgan as possible. </p><p>That’s what he had done. He crept out of the house in the dead of night, heart pounding in his chest. He felt sick and was terrified that every person he came across out on the road could be his daddy. He knew he’d be beaten worse than ever for this, maybe even killed. But he made it into town where he sold the few items he’d taken from home - a silver pocket watch, a gold ring and a bracelet and made around $20. He had then followed a mother and her two children onto a train leaving the station at first light, sitting close by her so people might think they were together and wouldn’t ask him any questions. </p><p>As the train left the station, for the first time that Arthur could remember, he smiled. He had done it. He had gotten away. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re a fool, boy.” Lyle said to him, “we ain’t so different, me and Dutch. You’ll never be free, always bein’ held back by somethin’ or someone. <i>Loyalty…</i> Where has it got you? Trust up like some turkey while Colm O’Driscoll and his boys laugh at you and fuck you. Is that freedom? Is that what loyalty gets you?”<br/>
“Shut up!” Arthur cried. “Shut up! He’s a bad man but he ain’t you!”<br/>
Arthur wasn't dumb enough to believe that Dutch was a saint by any means but Dutch had been so gentle and patient with him, waiting for Arthur to make the first move when it came to their romantic relationship. He was safe with Dutch and that was more than he could say for anyone else.</p><p>Word got to Arthur that Lyle had been arrested for murder and robbery and was going to swing. Arthur made sure he headed back for that. He was thirteen and hadn’t seen his daddy in almost a year but recognised him when he stood in front of the town on the gallows.<br/>
Lyle’s hard eyes met Arthur’s in the crowd, he still had that look of pure hatred as he regarded Arthur, even right before he died.<br/>
His neck snapped immediately. He was gone. But Arthur felt nothing. He should have been free but he wasn’t. Lyle Morgan still haunted Arthur to this day.</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>Everything hurt. His whole body screamed in pain, his lungs were on fire.<br/>
Arthur was tired. He was so tired. Tired of this pain. When he opened his eyes, Lyle was gone. Instead he saw Dutch staring back at him, dark eyes misted with too many emotions for Arthur to make sense of.<br/>
“You came…” Arthur managed to whisper, or at least he thought he did. He wasn’t sure. His lips were numb and throat dry. “You came…”</p><p>Arthur remembered holding onto Dutch’s waist  as they rode back to Clemens Point, Dutch was warm. The last time he had rode The Count, the Arabian had thrown him off. Not this time. The horse ran hard and fast, he could hear Dutch urging the horse on. Arthur rested his head on Dutch’s shoulder as the thick night air caressed his skin, allowing him to give into sleep. </p><p>He woke up here and there, he remembered seeing Hosea standing over him piercing blue eyes wracked with fear. He remembered Susan holding his hand, she was talking but he couldn’t hear her. He could hear Dutch in the distance:<br/>
<i>“Everyone, listen up. We’re leaving here, now! Pack everything you can as quick as you can. Today has been… Well… It could have gone much better. But I need you all to stay strong! Stay with me!”</i></p><p>Pearson and Bill hauled him into the back of a wagon where he remembered seeing Abigail sitting beside him, “don’t you go dyin’ on me, y’hear?” She said sternly as she stroked his hair. He wanted to laugh, wanted to talk back but he couldn’t. His chest rattled and he coughed.<br/>
Abigail’s soft face hazed in and out of Arthur’s vision.<br/>
“Will Uncle Arthur be ok, mama?” He heard Jack say from somewhere close by but he couldn’t see the boy.<br/>
“I.. I don’t know.” Came her reply.</p><p> </p><p>When he next awoke, he was in a bed in a room he didn’t recognise. He started, wondering whether it had been a dream… But which part? He struggled to sit up but felt firm hands hold him down.<br/>
“Don’t move, son.” He heard Dutch’s voice, “you need to rest.”<br/>
And so Arthur rested, drifting in and out of sleep. He was in pain, he coughed and shivered. One moment he felt like his body was on fire, the next he felt colder than he had when they got caught up in the snow storm in Colter. </p><p>Dutch stayed by his side. He knew that. Sometimes he’d wake up confused, he could hear the O’Driscoll, <i>“come on sugar, show me how you do it for Dutch.”</i><br/>
He couldn’t breathe. He cried out. But Dutch was always there, holding his hand, staring at him with concern. “I’m here, Arthur.” He said gently, “it’s alright.”</p><p>Dutch nursed him, cleaning him, making sure he ate the tasteless stew from Mr. Pearson even though he didn’t want to. He heard Dutch reading to him, the Evelyn Miller books that he liked so much but Arthur could never understand. Other times he was silent. Arthur’s eyelids were heavy but he opened them, wondering where Dutch had gone but he was still there. Sometimes his eyes were closed and he seemed to be in a troubled sleep, others he was still awake, watching over Arthur. </p><p>This is what made him different from Lyle, Arthur thought to himself. He was bad but he wasn't Lyle. </p><p>“I don’t know if you can hear me, son,” Dutch said softly to him, “but you’re gonna be ok. You gotta hold on. Hold on for me, my precious boy.”<br/>
<i>Yes, Dutch.</i></p><p> </p><p>Arthur’s  body seemed to heal slowly each day. He was able to sit up without pain and feed himself albeit clumsily. He could just about get out of bed and stand on the veranda and look at the new camp. It must have been beautiful before it fell into disrepair, now the paint peeled from the walls and there were holes in the floor and whole floorboards missing. Outside was pretty enough for a house that stood on the edge of a swamp. Arthur could see Jack sitting with Abigail and Karen looking relaxed. He saw Sean and Lenny sitting around the table together, he remembered that Lenny had been pestering Sean, trying to get Sean to allow him to teach him to read. He saw Javier hovering around Tilly and she was pretending she hadn’t noticed him. Pearson was arguing with Sadie again and Susan was trying to calm them both down. Charles was chopping firewood. John was smoking by the horses at the front of the house. It was strange, everything seemed so normal, as if the past week had never happened.</p><p>Dutch had asked him what had really happened at Hanging Dog Ranch. Arthur hadn’t the heart to tell him but he knew that Dutch knew. Dutch always knew. Arthur was too ashamed to say it, just like he’d been with the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his father.<br/>
When the O’Driscoll had forced him to suck his cock, he’d remembered his father from all those years ago. He remembered that feeling in his stomach, like everything was wrong and he was dirty. He wished he’d been able to defend himself this time but he couldn’t. Maybe Dutch looked at him now like damaged goods and the shame made Arthur feel sick.</p><p>Dutch hadn’t been there when he woke up. He looked for him from the window but couldn’t see him.<br/>
The door to the bedroom opened and Hosea entered.<br/>
Arthur smiled at the sight of him, it felt like he hadn’t seen him for weeks. “Hosea.” He said.<br/>
“You’re up and about.” Hosea replied, sounding surprised but relieved. Arthur nodded. His smile faltered, Hosea looked troubled.<br/>
Hosea smiled weakly at Arthur’s change in expression, “y’know, it was much easier to protect you when you was a boy.”<br/>
Arthur wrinkled his nose, “I don’t need no protectin’.”<br/>
Hosea nodded but Arthur knew that he thought differently. Hosea sat down heavily in the chair by Arthur's bed, usually occupied by Dutch. </p><p>He didn't look at Arthur as he began to spoke, he toyed with a cigarette but didn't light it. “Sometimes I wonder,” Hosea mused, “whether we're all too wrapped up with ourselves to see what's really going on. Pinkertons, bounty hunters, railroads, oil magnets… this is the way the world is headin’ and not even Dutch can stop that.”<br/>
Arthur frowned.<br/>
“The O’Driscolls were naive to think that the law would be satisfied with just Dutch or even all of us. They won't stop til all of us and our kind are gone. They don't want folk like us no more. I saw that monstrosity of Saint Denis all smoke and lights… and there's Annesburg to the north… even Blackwater which was once a trading post is becoming civilised.”</p><p>“Hosea… I don’t think I know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” Arthur said nervously. </p><p>Hosea turned to Arthur, light eyes meeting Arthur’s in a chillingly unwavering stare. “You love Dutch?” He asked Arthur.<br/>
Arthur's eyes changed. Hosea had never been so forward about it before.<br/>
Hosea shook his head and he allowed himself to smile briefly, “I don’t know why I'm asking, I know you do. Love him blindly. Faith… but y'see there's always just one more job with him. You know he'll never be truly done. You can't live the way you want to, Arthur. There is no paradise. Not here.”</p><p>“You doubt him?” Arthur asked, shifting his weight so he could lean against the wall by the window. It was starting to hurt and he was already becoming tired just from standing.</p><p>Hosea laughed hollowly. “Oh Arthur, you've been with him too long to talk so naively. I don't know whether I doubt him as much as feel sorry for him. Sometimes we have to give up. Sometimes we have to know which battles are the ones worth fighting and unfortunately, Dutch doesn't know that. He fights everyone.”</p><p>“Hosea…” Arthur murmured. He didn’t like hearing Hosea talk like this, talk about Dutch like this.<br/>
“I'm old now Arthur. And I'm dyin’.” Arthur shook his head but Hosea raised a hand to stop him from speaking. He continued “hear me out, son. I already talked to John. I want him to leave with Abigail and the boy. And I want you to go, too.”<br/>
“I can't leave Dutch,” Arthur replied instantly. </p><p>“You think you can't. You think you can't be strong without him but that's not true. Look at what happened to you because of him.” Arthur continued to shake his head as if by doing so, he wouldn’t be able to hear Hosea’s words. “He’s blood thirsty, first killing that girl in Blackwater and now shooting Colm like that. You know it. He's changed and you know that too.” </p><p>“Stop.” Arthur snapped. He couldn’t bear it.<br/>
“He loves you, Arthur. All of this, really, is for you. And if you want to keep on runnin’ from every Pinkerton, every lawman, every <i>shadow</i> then so be it. But if you don’t change his mind, we’re all doomed.”<br/>
“I don’t know what you’re saying!”<br/>
“I'm an old man Arthur. I raised you as good as my own and I won't stand by and watch him hurt you no more.”</p><p>That was the final straw. Arthur glared at Hosea. He was affronted at how deceitful this all felt. “He loves you, too.” Arthur said hotly, “only you never cared as much for him back. And he moved on and now you’re bitter because you’re alone.”<br/>
Hosea’s eyes widened for a moment.“You don’t mean that Arthur. You’re dumb but not that dumb. You’re letting him poison you.”<br/>
“I want you to get out.” Arthur barked. “If I could throw you out, I would!”</p><p>Hosea didn’t move an inch from where he sat. As much as Arthur and Dutch had fought, even physically, Arthur had never dared fight with Hosea. Hosea was hard and strong in his own way, a man not to be messed with despite his slender stature and calm demeanour. </p><p>Arthur felt tears of fury welling in his eyes. They were supposed to be family.“What about faith and loyalty?” He found himself asking tearfully,  “how long you been lyin’ to us?”</p><p>“I love both of you deeply.” Hosea told him. “You’re my son, Arthur and you’ve always been such a good boy... But I hate what Dutch has done to you… What he’s made you into.”<br/>
“Is this the reason you wanted me and Marston to make up?” Arthur asked, “so we could all betray Dutch together?”<br/>
“It ain’t like that. You're like brothers... I want you both to be safe."<br/>
“I need to talk to Dutch.”<br/>
Hosea swallowed, “well… That’s the thing. He’s gone.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>Gone?</i>
</p><p>Arthur dressed hurriedly, pulling a shirt on and his boots then descended the stairs of Shady Belle all the while Hosea followed him telling him to stop, think for a moment, just calm down.<br/>
“What do you mean gone?” Arthur kept asking, “he can’t just go. He wouldn’t just leave! When did he go?!”</p><p>“Arthur, you’re still not well enough. Don’t do nothin’ stupid.” Hosea pleaded.<br/>
“I have to find him, you sure as hell won’t!”</p><p>They spilled outside of the house and everyone stilled and watched them.</p><p>“He could be dead for all you care - in fact you’d probably be happy ‘bout it. It’d put a goddamn smile on your miserable face!”<br/>
“Mr Morgan, that’s quite enough-” Susan started.<br/>
“This ain’t got nothin’ to do with you, woman.” Arthur snapped not even turning to look at her.</p><p>“What the hell’s goin’ on here?”<br/>
It was John. Arthur rounded on him.</p><p>“You.” He said menacingly, “you and all this horseshit about us being brothers.”<br/>
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout Arthur.”<br/>
“Course you don’t. Ya never do. Always playin’ the dumbass but I <i>know</i>! I know what you and him have been talkin’ about!” Arthur shouted, gesturing at Hosea, “you wanna get outta here. You wanna abandon Dutch, abandon all o’ us to play happy families! Horse-shit-Marston!”<br/>
“Arthur-” Hosea started but Arthur cut him off.<br/>
“You didn’t care ‘bout that boy when he was born. Y’didn’t want nothin’ to do with him and you’da said he was anyone’s but yours to get outta it. And <i>now</i> you wanna be daddy of the year?! Horse. Shit!”</p><p>The camp was silent for a moment but it seemed like forever. Arthur could feel eyes on him but no one dared speak. He tended to save his rages for when he drank but this was different. He had thought he could always trust Hosea out of everyone. </p><p>“I got a family to think about now, Arthur.” John said, his voice quieter than Arthur’s but there was a dangerous tone to it. “I can’t risk their lives.”<br/>
Arthur shook his head. “He’s poisoned you against Dutch, against all of us.”<br/>
“No, Arthur,” John replied, “Dutch poisoned you a long time ago. You was a kid, Arthur and he manipulated you.”</p><p>Arthur felt white hot rage erupt from the pit of his stomach, how dare John mention this, any of this. John didn’t know anything about his relationship with Dutch. Was this Hosea's doing? How long had he been whispering in John's ear? And who else had Hosea turned against Dutch?</p><p>“That sure is a long word for you, Marston,” Arthur growled.<br/>
John’s neck flushed with anger but his amber eyes burned bright, “when I think of my boy… and if someone like Dutch did them things to him that he done to you-”<br/>
“It ain’t like that, John. It never was. He ain’t done nothin’ I didn’t want doin’.”<br/>
John’s eyes narrowed, “you was a kid,” he repeated, “you didn’t know what you wanted.”</p><p>The pair of them squared up to each other. The anger was rushing through Arthur like water in a stream.<br/>
“It all makes sense.” John was saying, “I was always so jealous of you growin’ up - why wasn’t I Dutch’s favourite? Why was you so special? Well I see now and I see what it’s done to you. You can’t have a normal relationship with anyone - what about Mary? And look what happened to Eliza and Issac-”<br/>
“Shut your goddamn mouth or I’ll shut it for you!” Arthur roared.</p><p>“Boys!” Hosea cried, “enough!”<br/>
But Arthur had already lunged at John. It took Charles, Bill and Javier to hold Arthur back. John backed away. </p><p>“You got no loyalty, Marston!” Arthur shouted, struggling to get free but Bill was holding him tight, “Dutch saved your sorry ass. If it weren’t for him you’d be dead! And all you can do is pick fault!”<br/>
“Dutch could slit your throat and you’d still thank him.” John replied, “you gotta be loyal to what matters. Can’t you see what he’s done to you?”</p><p>“John, walk away now.” Hosea instructed and he did. Arthur stopped struggling. He was breathing heavily when Bill let go of him, he and Charles hovered nearby incase Arthur decided to attack John from behind. </p><p>“You need to calm down, son.” Hosea said to him, “I understand you’re upset but I won’t have you fightin’ like dogs.”<br/>
Hosea could still see rage in Arthur’s bright blue eyes, a rage he’d never seen before in him.</p><p>“I don’t give a shit about Marston,” Arthur spat John’s name as if it were a swear word, “I’m gonna find Dutch.”<br/>
“Arthur, you’re not well enough.” Hosea replied but Arthur had pushed past him and gone towards his horse. He saddled up as silence descended the camp again and rode out alone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Akrasia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You can't fight nature. You can't fight gravity.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm absolutely exhausted and have been working on this for 2 weeks so I hope it's ok!<br/>This took me so long so I can only apologise! Thank you for sticking with it if you have!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Time is that strangest of things. You fall asleep for what feels like hours but in reality, it was only a few minutes. When you’re eating dinner around the campfire with the sun setting, there are people already getting up on the other side of the world and starting tomorrow.</p><p>Twenty years for Dutch felt oddly like it was yesterday but also like a lifetime ago.<br/>
He had been so different; he laughed more, remembered feeling happy… Those times out west seemed like dreams now, beautiful dreams that he was clutching at and longing to get back. Maybe they were only dreams, silly dreams.<br/>
He was too old now to believe that they ever could have worked out.</p><p>Hosea had been different, too. He hadn’t doubted Dutch so much. Now, where Hosea pushed back, criticised or outright argued, he used to enthuse and agree. He was always at Dutch’s side; there wasn’t anything they couldn’t do together. They had been unstoppable. Untouchable. That taste of invincibility had proved to be insatiable to Dutch.<br/>
Perhaps not so for Hosea. Maybe he was just tired. Dutch was too to an extent but he couldn’t afford to abandon everything they’d worked so hard for now, not with so many people relying on him…</p><p>Twenty years ago, Hosea was so strikingly handsome with white-blond hair, high cheekbones and a dark brow. His frame was slim and lithe and he had a confident way of carrying himself akin to a much larger and more imposing man. He was graceful, too. Dutch had seen him pickpocket men twice his size with a swanlike elegance, even taking the tie from around their neck, all without them noticing.<br/>
He spoke with certainty and poise, never putting a foot wrong. Watching him work was like watching an artist paint or a ballet dancer perform. Dutch was mesmerised. He sometimes wondered whether he had fallen for the fraudster just as many others had.</p><p>Of course, nothing lasts forever. </p><p>Bessie came along a year or so after they had met each other. At the time, she was living out west, somewhere near Cholla Springs. Hosea would ride out to see her when he could leaving Dutch alone.<br/>
Dutch masked the hurt with whiskey. He drank until he got into bar fights or lost all his money at poker. On more than one occasion, Hosea would come back to find that Dutch had been incarcerated and Hosea had to work his magic to get Dutch out without having to pay for it.</p><p>“What’s gotten into you, Dutch?” Hosea asked him when they got back to their camp one time.<br/>
Dutch had sat down heavily in front of the fire. His head was still spinning from the hangover.<br/>
Dutch remembered Hosea reaching out and touching his face, gently stroking his busted lip from the fight in the saloon the night before with a look of concern behind his eyes.<br/>
“I just… Feel like I’m losing you, Hosea.”<br/>
Hosea frowned, hand still on Dutch’s face. “You ain’t losin’ me.”<br/>
<i>So why did it feel like it?</i></p><p>Arthur came along not long after that. It was nice to have him around when Hosea took off to see Bessie.<br/>
Dutch and Arthur would fish or go drinking together. Dutch taught Arthur how to play poker and blackjack. He taught him to read and write, taught him to hunt and skin an animal. It was good for Dutch to take his mind off of the ache that Hosea left behind.<br/>
In turn, Arthur would follow Dutch around like a gosling who’d imprinted Dutch as his mother. Now Arthur was always at Dutch’s side.</p><p>Soon their relationship became more than that of mentor and student. It became complicated. </p><p>Dutch had gone to him when he called out in the night, thrashing around on his bedroll, drenched with sweat and panting, having nightmares of his father.<br/>
Arthur had asked, <i>”can I sleep with you?”</i><br/>
And Dutch had let him. He’d let him because Arthur seemed so small and vulnerable. He’d let him because Dutch himself  was alone and hurting. </p><p>By the time Arthur was eighteen, it had become even more complicated. It was sexual first and foremost but it was romantic in a way Dutch had never experienced with anyone before and he didn’t know how to act. It was intense and all consuming. He ate, drank and breathed Arthur.</p><p>Dutch loved Hosea dearly but sometimes, when he looked into Hosea’s eyes, he could feel a change. That the admiration Hosea had once had for him was gone. When he looked to Arthur, that admiration burned bright.</p><p>Dutch’d brought Susan back to the camp on a whim and she had stayed even after their short-lived fling fizzled out and now little John had joined them too. It was complicated but it was a family now.</p><p> </p><p>One night, he had drunk with Hosea in a saloon in Blackwater.. Dutch didn’t remember if there was an occasion or not, maybe they had just been in high spirits. </p><p>The whiskey flowed and they had drunk their fill until neither could walk straight. Dutch didn’t remember what they talked about anymore. He just remembered the way the soft saloon light made Hosea’s eyes sparkle as he spoke animatedly and the way that same light caught in his hair and made him glow. </p><p>Dutch remembered them leaving the saloon and the cold night air caressing his skin. He looked up at the night sky, a beautiful painting of blacks and blues with stars littered throughout and a shimmering moon bearing witness to what lay below.</p><p>They walked behind the saloon where the horses were hitched. Hosea leaned against the saloon wall and put a cigarette between his lips. Dutch watched as he struck a match off of his boot to light it and inhaled deeply. Hosea was looking up at the sky now, as if deep in thought but Dutch couldn’t take his eyes off of him</p><p>It had been three years and they had been the only years of his life that had mattered. </p><p>Before Hosea, there had been nothing. He left home when he was around fourteen, his mother and him had a strained relationship and his father died in Scarlet Meadows, not that Dutch had been close with him before then. </p><p>Before Hosea, Dutch had travelled around from town to town falling in with people then falling out with them just as fast. Soon, he began to realise that he couldn’t trust people, they would double-cross him and use him. Almost all the adults he met had bad intentions towards him; they wanted to pin things on him, work him half to death on the promise of pay that was too good to be true or use him for their own sworded gratification, sometimes all of the above.</p><p>Dutch had learned quickly not to trust anyone. No one ever wanted to help him for free. There was always a catch, always a short straw to be drawn and as sure as pumpkins aren’t cauliflowers, Dutch would always be the one drawing that short straw. </p><p>He’d killed his first man because of it. He remembered never having been so scared but when he grabbed the revolver his hand steadied; suddenly he was in control.<br/>
He remembered the look in the man’s eyes somewhere between amusement and fear. “You don’t have the guts, boy.” He’d said.<br/>
Somehow, it seemed like a challenge rather than a statement. “Don’t I?” Came Dutch’s response. He may have been trembling but his words came out smoothly.<br/>
“Now son, you set that gun down nice and easy and we forget this ever happened, y’hear?”<br/>
Dutch heard but he didn’t comply.<br/>
“You don’t come no closer to me or I pull this trigger.” Dutch threatened. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear nothing else.<br/>
“I don’t think you will, boy. Like I said, set the gun down real easy, now and we’ll forget all about it.”<br/>
But Dutch wouldn’t relent. He knew deep down that if he gave in, if he didn’t shoot or let the man do what he intended, then there would be no coming back.</p><p>The man started towards Dutch and, without another thought, Dutch squeezed the trigger. He was fifteen.<br/>
Hosea was the only person who knew about that. He trusted Hosea wholly. </p><p>Hosea was talking again and Dutch wandered over to him.<br/>
“What do you think, Dutch?” He asked but Dutch hadn’t been listening.<br/>
He stood squarely in front of Hosea. Over the past three years, there’d been touches here and there, their fingers met by accident but sometimes on purpose. Sometimes he caught Hosea looking as he undressed, sometimes Hosea would look away quickly and others, he wouldn’t. He found that gaze so mysterious, so dark yet inviting. Dutch wanted to know what it meant. There was Bessie and there was Susan, Arthur and a whole host of whores in between but no one had looked at him in that way.</p><p>Now, in front of Hosea like this, he knew he had to do it.</p><p>Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was something else. But it was as if they both knew what the other was thinking and Dutch found himself closing the gap between himself and Hosea, their eyes fixed on each other. </p><p>He could taste Hosea’s breath before his lips, whiskey and cigarettes. The lips followed, nervous and uncertain. Dutch’s hands rested on Hosea’s hips and they kissed so lightly, lips ghosting over each other, overlapping as they found the rhythm of the kiss clumsily. Dutch let his eyes close, his tongue swiping gently at Hosea's lips as if silently asking for access and Hosea granted it.<br/>
For a few moments, it was bliss.  The world seemed to stop, Dutch couldn’t hear the ruckus from the saloon or the street beyond. All that mattered was Hosea, this kiss, the way his breath was hitched but his hands rested on Dutch’s shoulders, grounding himself as if he might float away otherwise. </p><p>Then as suddenly as they were kissing, they weren’t.</p><p>Hosea pressed his back against the wall, he shook his head. “Dutch… I can’t do this.”<br/>
Immediately, Dutch felt his cheeks burn but something else, like he was plummeting.  He had never thought that Hosea would reject him. Didn’t Hosea trust him?</p><p>“I should have told you a long time ago but I didn’t know how…”<br/>
“Hosea..?” Dutch breathed. He’d never felt like this before, like his heart had a puncture. Like he couldn’t breathe anymore.<br/>
“It’s… It’s Bessie and I… Listen, Dutch… We’re serious about each other. I… Well, I love her.”</p><p>Dutch stepped away from Hosea, he felt like the world was spinning. He had known they spent time together but… <i>Love…</i> Maybe Dutch had turned a blind eye to it in the hopes that it might be nothing, a fling… He thought it was just like Susan and himself.</p><p>“We want to get married. We… I… Want to get out of the life, Dutch.”</p><p>Dutch felt like he was falling. Everything he knew was wrong. He really was losing Hosea. </p><p>“You’re… Leaving me?” Dutch asked. He hated how vulnerable he sounded.<br/>
“No,” Hosea replied quickly. “I’ll still see you.”<br/>
“When?” His voice cracked.<br/>
“Dutch…” Hosea went to rest his hand on Dutch’s shoulder but Dutch shrugged him off.  “Dutch, please… Don’t be like this. I- I love ya Dutch. I do. Just… Not like this.”</p><p>Dutch thought he might be sick. “I can change.” Dutch found himself saying desperately and he hated himself for it, “if that’s what you want, I’ll change for you.”<br/>
Hosea shook his head. Even twenty years ago, he knew that Dutch couldn’t change for anyone.</p><p>Dutch staggered to his horse. He didn’t remember mounting up or riding back to the camp. Everything was wrong, it wasn’t meant to be this way. </p><p> </p><p>It was still by the time he reached the camp. Everyone was asleep apart from Arthur who rose from the campfire upon hearing hooves. He smiled brightly as Dutch approached.  He spoke but Dutch didn’t hear him. He went into his tent, everything was a blur.</p><p>Arthur followed him, “Dutch… What’s wrong?” He asked, sounding anxious. “Are you mad at me?”<br/>
Dutch looked up at Arthur who hovered nervously by the front of the tent.<br/>
He was more of a man now, he grew so fast that he wore Dutch’s old clothes as Hosea’s looked comical on him now. He was taller still, he carried himself like a man and would sometimes let his beard grow. His voice was deeper, shoulders and chest broader yet he still seemed boyish around Dutch. </p><p>Dutch ran a hand through his hair, he wore it shorter back then, off of his neck, slicked with pomade.<br/>
“No. It’s nothing you’ve done, son… It’s… Hosea.” His voice cracked on the last word.<br/>
“Hosea?” Arthur walked over to Dutch.<br/>
“He’s leavin’ us.”<br/>
Arthur’s bright eyes widened, “what?</p><p>“He's gonna marry Bessie and try to go straight,” Dutch said, his voice hardening now.<br/>
Arthur put his head to one side, “isn't that… good?” He asked naively.<br/>
Dutch smiled weakly. “I suppose so.”<br/>
Arthur bit his bottom lip, watching Dutch thoughtfully. He'd never seen Dutch upset like this before. Angry, sure but not sad. Not broken.</p><p>“I won't leave.” Arthur stated, “I'll stay with you. Always.”<br/>
Dutch looked up at Arthur, his eyes clear with a foreign weakness to him. “Thank you, son. That means a lot.”</p><p>Before he knew it, Arthur had drawn closer to him, pulling him into a kiss; his arms enveloped Dutch, almost in a way that comforted him. Arthur’s lips warm and soft, he kissed with certainty, as if there were a meaning behind it. His hands cupped Dutch’s face, he slipped his tongue into Dutch’s mouth and Dutch felt his eyelid flutter shut. Suddenly all that mattered was Arthur, his touch, his scent, warm and musky. He tasted like tobacco and candy. </p><p>When he opened his eyes again, Arthur’s shimmering blue eyes looked into Dutch’s with intent.<br/>
“I can make it better, Dutch.” Arthur breathed. Dutch felt a shiver travel the length of his spine. </p><p>Before Dutch could control himself, he pushed Arthur down, pinning him to the cot and kissed Arthur again, smashing his lips to the younger’s hungrily.  He kissed hard. Teeth clashed. Dutch’s hands grabbed at Arthur, kneading at his ass, Arthur let out a soft moan into Dutch’s mouth, “Dutch…”</p><p>It was like a fire had been lit inside of Dutch, maybe fuelled by the liquor but he wasn’t sure. He suddenly needed Arthur, all of him, he needed to see Arthur’s faith.<br/>
This was different from the other times, times when he’d been gentle or coaxing. He couldn’t take it slow. He needed it. </p><p>He made light work of Arthur’s clothes, removing them with ease until Arthur lay panting beneath him bare, his pale skin flushed pink. </p><p>He prepped Arthur lazily, coating his fingers quickly with gun oil as a substitute for lubricant, it smelled strange but did the job.<br/>
Arthur squirmed around Dutch’s fingers but the stretch made his eyes glassy with tears of lust. Soon, he moved against Dutch’s fingers, his hand pumping his own cock to serve as a distraction and reward.<br/>
Dutch liked to see Arthur like this; no inhibitions, just overcome with primal desire and pleasure. He liked how Arthur’s body moved, twisting and writhing,  his hips hypnotically finding a rhythm of their own as he fucked himself on Dutch’s digits.</p><p>Dutch unbuttoned his shirt so that it hung from his shoulders and unfastened his pants enough to free his thick cock. He stroked himself as he carefully removed his fingers from Arthur. He used the gun oil to slick his length and draping one of Arthur’s legs over his shoulder, he pushed into him.</p><p>Arthur gasped and his free hand gripped the cot beneath him. </p><p>The tight heat was almost blinding. Dutch grunted. He wanted to snap his hips into Arthur, thrusting up into him, that heat was intoxicating. He wanted to fuck him hard, make him cry out so he could hear him, hear him call his name and let everyone knew who he belonged to. But he didn’t, he moved slowly, savouring the way Arthur panted and whined, savouring every precious inch of Arthur eating him up so deliciously. </p><p>Arthur groaned. He’d stopped stroking himself now, lost in the feeling of being filled wholly by Dutch. </p><p>When Arthur relaxed a little, Dutch moved a little faster. It was a rhythmic thrusting that made Arthur huff and moan softly. It didn't take long for Arthur's head to loll back onto the cot and for his hands to find himself again, stroking in time with Dutch's thrusts. He hooked his free leg around Dutch’s waist instinctively, pulling him closer.</p><p>"Oh Dutch…" he whispered, “Dutch please…”</p><p>Dutch felt his orgasm pooling in the pit of his stomach. He growled and held Arthur’s hips tighter, leaving marks with his fingers as he picked up the pace, pounding into Arthur, harder and harder until the air was thick with the sounds of their skin slapping together and Arthur’s loud moans; every ounce of Dutch needing to get his fix and he couldn’t stop now. He needed Arthur so bad.</p><p>Arthur came first, his thighs shook uncontrollably and he reached up to Dutch for comfort. He cried out, his words garbled. Dutch leant down,  their foreheads pressed together, he could feel Arthur clawing at his back as he spilled himself onto his stomach.<br/>
Arthur was left gasping and shaking.</p><p>Dutch’s heart was thudding in his chest like it was trying to break out, for a moment he felt blank, he was aware of nothing around him other than Arthur’s under him. Dutch closed his eyes for a blissful moment where all he felt was colour and warmth washing over him.</p><p>He released into Arthur, stifling any sound he would have made by biting onto the younger man’s shoulder. Arthur whimpered but he held Dutch as he panted, his muscles still contracting as he rode out the last part of his orgasm.</p><p>He crashed down beside Arthur who wound around him, nestling into his chest. Dutch could feel Arthur’s fair soft hair and his warm breath on his skin as he fell into a deep sleep.</p><p>Dutch too was tired. He didn’t remember falling asleep.<br/>
He didn't think of Hosea again, only Arthur and how loyal he was. How he felt terrible for thinking him second best when all along, he had been there for Dutch. He was special in a way Dutch didn't understand but maybe he didn't need to. </p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>“Well, what do we do now?” Javier asked Hosea.<br/>
“What do you mean?” Said Bill who stood beside Javier, watching the clearing that led up to Shady Belle, as if Arthur might turn and come back. But everyone knew he was too stubborn to do something like that.<br/>
“He can’t just go after Dutch on his own!” Javier snapped, “didn’t you see him? He’s sick.” Javier was still looking at Hosea but Hosea didn’t respond.</p><p>“What do we do now?” Javier repeated, looking around at everyone else. They shuffled nervously, “ay! what is wrong with you all?” His voice flared with anger.<br/>
“I’ll ride with you, Javier,” Charles said walking over to him, “we need to find Arthur and Dutch, both of them.”<br/>
“I'm coming too,” Sadie piped up. “Arthur’s always had my back.”</p><p>Javier raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. Sadie had proved to be a better marksman than she was a cook. When they had moved to Clemens Point, she had gone into Rhodes with Arthur and shot an impressive amount of Leymone Raiders who had tried to ambush the pair of them on their way back to camp.<br/>
She’d been so meek and mild until that point but maybe the gang had underestimated her. Maybe this was the pain she felt from being made a widow finding its release.</p><p>The trio made their way to the horses. The camp was silent apart from Jack who was now crying, “where did Uncle Arthur go? Is he coming back?”<br/>
“Hush now,” Abigail told him and ushered him back into the house.</p><p>Sean and Lenny stood uselessly by Pearson’s tent. Sean uncharacteristically had nothing to say. Lenny was looking over at Hosea, as if awaiting instructions from the older outlaw but Hosea hadn’t said a word in the thirty or so minutes since Arthur had left. </p><p>Micah was leaning up against one of the horse hitches. He smirked as he watched the three of them saddle up. “So this is the rescue posse?”<br/>
Javier shot him daggers. “For all your talk, sayin’ how you think Dutch is so great, you don’t seem to be too worried that he just disappeared.”<br/>
“He’ll come back.” Micah said, “He’s not a child.”<br/>
“Pinche estúpido!” Javier spat but he knew he couldn’t let his anger get the better of him. </p><p>Javier shot one last glance at Hosea who had sat down now with his back to them, head down. John hovered nervously by his side.<br/>
Javier marched over to them, “You’re just going to let him die out there, Marston?” Javier asked.<br/>
John’s eyes were pained as they met Javier’s. “He won’t want me comin’ after him. Not now.”<br/>
“He’s your brother.” Javier retorted.<br/>
John shrugged and looked back at the ground.</p><p>Javier cursed in Spanish before heading to his bedroll, he took a few things and packed them onto his horse. Charles and Sadie watched as he mounted up.<br/>
“You’re fucking cowards, all of you!” Javier shouted before they left, “Arthur would come to rescue you, any of your sorry asses! Snakes, all of you!” </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>Dutch rode without knowing where he was going. The Count’s hooves hit the ground hard as he urged him on through the night. </p><p>Suddenly, that beautiful land that Dutch loved so much seemed cold and empty. Everything was wrong and he couldn’t think straight anymore. </p><p>Dutch was known for doing things on a whim, without reason but this was not one of those times. Since Blackwater, there had been something in the back of Dutch;s mind, something telling him that it was finished. He was finished and he had to do something about it.</p><p>All he could do lately was destroy and hurt. He had to go before someone else ended up dead. </p><p>He couldn’t think. He couldn’t see. His mind was rushing. He felt like he was falling</p><p>Whenever he closed his eyes he saw Colm. He saw the blood explode from his chest but he also saw him grabbing Arthur, he beat him until he fell to Colm’s feet. He fucked him til Arthur begged him to stop. Arthur called out for Dutch but Dutch couldn’t do anything. Dutch was the root of the pain.<br/>
His boy who he loved so much could have died because of him. All Dutch had ever wanted to do was protect him, protect him from those who didn’t understand but now he saw with renewed clarity that  it was him… Dutch was the monster.</p><p>“Was that Arthur I saw in your cot this morning?” Hosea had asked him the first night Arthur had slept in the same tent as Dutch.<br/>
“The boy was afraid,” Dutch said matter of factly, “he gets nightmares and it’s no wonder after what he’s been through.”</p><p>Dutch knew without being told what Arthur had been through despite Arthur never telling him. Why else did Arthur try so hard to please? Why else did he trust so blindly? Because Dutch was a good person? Or because Dutch was the father that Arthur wanted so badly?<br/>
Some twisted relationship had grown out of it, where Dutch couldn’t contain his dark desire for the boy and Arthur couldn’t control his pathological need to be loved and validated. </p><p>Hosea had glared at him. “He’s a boy, Dutch. Boys are off limits.”<br/>
“What do you take me for?” Dutch spat in response.<br/>
“You tell me.” Hosea replied, eyes narrowed.<br/>
“You’re sick,” Dutch said and he'd pushed Hosea away.<br/>
“Am I?” Hosea asked, he followed Dutch who was walking away from him, “because you look like the sick one to me, Dutch.”</p><p>“You’ve got Bessie, why don’t you ride off into the sunset and stop trying to shit on everything I do!” His voice cracked but dark eyes were ablaze with anger. Arthur was a kid, he knew that. Lying beside him at night meant nothing and he was disgusted  that Hosea could think otherwise. </p><p>A year later, Arthur asked him what it was like to lay with a woman.<br/>
<i>”Can you teach me, Dutch?” </i><br/>
He’d let Arthur rut into his hand and held him as he felt his first orgasm. He should have stopped then but he couldn’t. </p><p><i>“I want to be with you all the time. I want to be close to you.”</i><br/>
He’d let Arthur take him into his eager mouth, he’d let Arthur satisfy him. He should have stopped it then, too. But he couldn’t.</p><p>Dutch had turned to women, to whores to see if it could satisfy the hunger that Arthur had awoken in him but it couldn’t. Before he knew it, they lay together most nights, unable to fight their desire for one another. </p><p>Dutch longed for Hosea but had found Arthur and soon Arthur was the only thing that could placate him even though he kept trying, with Susan, with Annabelle, with Molly…. But he always came back to Arthur.</p><p>The Count was exhausted, the white Arabian snorted and panted. He came to a standstill. Dutch slid from the saddle and proceeded on foot, not knowing where he was walking. The night was still in contrast to all the noise in his head.</p><p>He couldn’t protect Arthur. All he had done was hurt him. Arthur, Hosea… Everyone would be better off without him, right?</p><p>The sky was black. There were no stars. The crescent moon above him was dull. He walked and walked, the trail that stretched out before him was barren. He could hear nothing. It was almost like a dream. The only thing that felt real was the pain in his chest, spreading like a fire through his body, consuming him in thick black smoke.</p><p>He would continue to hurt and destroy unless something stopped him.</p><p>He reached for his revolver and his hand steadied, he was in control and he knew what he had to do.</p><p> <i>You can't fight nature. You can’t fight gravity.</i></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Wheel of Fortune</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>It was all his fault. His nature. It was him, it had always been him. He could blame it on bounty hunters, on Pinkertons, lawmen or the way of the world but it was Dutch who destroyed everything.</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know this has taken a very long time and I can only apologise.  I'm looking at finishing this fic by the end of this month as I have had the end drafted for a while now so it shouldn't take as long!<br/>Thank you for those of you who have stuck by this fic!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>The Fool</i>
</p><p>John’s words echoed in Arthur’s head. They hadn’t seen eye to eye for a long time; for Arthur, betraying them all by abandoning them like John had was unforgivable. It almost didn’t surprise Arthur that John was abandoning them all over again.<br/>
<i>“When I think of my boy… and if someone like Dutch did them things to him that he done to you...”</i><br/>
It wasn’t like that. Arthur had wanted to roar it loud for everyone to hear, all those people who whispered and talked behind Dutch’s back. It had never been like that. Dutch had never taken anything that Arthur wasn’t prepared to give. The world had made Arthur grow up fast and he wasn’t so innocent as other boys his age… He thought John would have understood that, he’d grown up fast too. Neither of them had really had a childhood.</p><p>Ominous dark storm clouds swirled overhead, swallowing all the light from the sky and Arthur could smell rain on the wind. </p><p>He rode recklessly, tearing up the trail from Shady Belle in a desperate bid to track Dutch. Arthur wasn’t like Charles or even Javier when it came to tracking; he couldn’t always recognise a trail, which twigs were broken from horse’s hooves or just dried out from the sun, sometimes he’d loose hoof prints to mud where tracks seemed to blur into one unholy mess.<br/>
Arthur hated that he had no idea where Dutch had gone. Where <i>could</i> he go now? It felt like the world was closing in on them all. Arthur felt like he was suffocating. His head swam with John and Hosea, their words against Dutch… He was still reeling. How long had they been planning to leave, to betray Dutch and him? John, he could believe it of, but Hosea..? After all this time...</p><p>Arthur rode through the sticky swamps hopelessly. He was sweating again but he didn’t know if it was the humidity or whether his wound was getting worse again. He knew it had been careless to go after Dutch in his condition, he had scarcely recovered at all but if he didn’t go, who would? Hosea? Maybe once upon a time but not now.<br/>
Arthur loved Hosea dearly, he was the fatherly figure that he had craved since he was young but he resented that Dutch loved Hosea so, even now. He supposed the heart wants what the heart wants, just like Arthur’s wanted Dutch. Arthur wasn’t stupid, he knew that love doesn’t die so easily, even when you’ve been hurt. Arthur often wondered what would happen if Hosea changed his mind, if Hosea told Dutch that he loved him, what would Dutch do? Maybe it was too far gone now. Arthur always came to the same conclusion: if Dutch really wanted Hosea, he would have him. That was just the way Dutch was. </p><p>Arthur could feel the electricity from the lightning as thunder rumbled above him. He squeezed his horse tighter with his legs, flattening his body to the horse, urging it faster and faster even though he had no idea where he was going or where Dutch was. The rain came down hard, making the visibility impossible through the thick, tall trees but he continued on desperately nonetheless.<br/>
Arthur’s horse became skittish the deeper they got into the swamps, probably from gators that Arthur couldn’t see through the rain coming down so hard now.<br/>
“C’mon girl!” Arthur urged, “just a bit more for me!” But he knew the horse wouldn’t last much longer.</p><p>He was right; the horse’s legs gave out by the time they got to Scarlet Meadows, the front legs gave way and the horse screamed as it crashed down, throwing Arthur from the saddle onto the sodden ground. He lay winded on his back for a few minutes, gasping for breath as fresh pain from his shoulder tore through him.<br/>
The rain pounded down on him and he could only just pull himself up off of the floor. He staggered back to where his horse lay, he looked down at the wretched creature, the mahogany bay Tennessee Walker that Arthur had acquired from Mrs Adler’s ranch...  The horse had served him well these past few months but looking at the way it writhed in pain, black eyes looking up at Arthur… Arthur knew what he had to do. </p><p>“I’m sorry, girl.” Arthur whispered.<br/>
The shot rang out across the clearing like a thunder. Arthur walked away with a lump in his throat. </p><p> </p><p>The downpour made Arthur lose his bearings, everything looked unfamiliar. The sky had grown darker still. He knew he was near The Heartlands, Emerald Ranch wasn’t too far from there but he wasn’t sure in which direction. He was starting to feel heavy, fever was beginning to burn through him. He walked just over half a mile or so before he saw something coming towards him. He recognised The Count immediately; the bright white Arabian was wandering along the trail, riderless.<br/>
When Arthur approached hurriedly, the horse became spooked and reared up on its hind legs but soon calmed when it recognised Arthur’s voice. Weary from walking, he mounted The Count who whinnied and tried to buck him but maybe it should sense that he was exhausted and ill because eventually, it calmed and let Arthur ride. Arthur was too tired to guide The Count, “take me to him, boy,” Arthur whispered as he rested his head against the horse’s neck. “Take me to Dutch.” </p><p> </p><p>****</p><p>
  <i>Strength</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Hosea sat as still as a statue while Javier, Charles and Sadie mounted up and left.<br/>
<i>“You’re fucking cowards, all of you! Arthur would come to rescue you, any of your sorry asses! Snakes, all of you!”</i><br/>
Javier was right, of course. Arthur was many things, a bad man who killed to appease Dutch, stubborn and hot headed, sometimes dumb and naive in his own way… But he was loyal to his own detriment. He would save each and every one of their gang before himself… Maybe Hosea and Dutch had instilled some good into the boy after all. </p><p><i>The curious couple and their unruly son.</i> They turned heads wherever they went, the handsome pair and the equally handsome boy that came with them.<br/>
It had been good for a short while. It felt like family. But nothing lasts forever.</p><p>If Hosea was honest, he hadn’t wanted to take the boy from that farmhouse where they had found him in the first instance. They weren’t nannies, they were outlaws. Hosea knew nothing about children - how to take candy from one, sure but not how to take care of one. </p><p>Arthur was growing day by day. He had been feisty and angry when they met him, angry at the world. He would argue if he wasn’t being sullen, he would lash out because he didn’t know how to control himself. Maybe Dutch recognised the anger in him and that was why he had wanted to take him with them so badly. </p><p>The first time Dutch taught Arthur how to hold a rifle, how to look down the sights, to pull the trigger as he exhaled and to brace for recoil, Arthur’s bullet had glided through the air as if it were ice, towards the deer they’d been tracking and met the animal in its neck. The deer tumbled to the ground in a sprawling heap of limbs. Hosea saw something change in the boy that day. It was the same look in Dutch’s eye from when they were younger, when they were invincible and the whole word wasn’t after them. A sense of power that Arthur had never felt before.<br/>
In Dutch it had been intoxicating. In Arthur, Hosea found it frightening. Maybe that was what age did to you. </p><p>When they were younger, just Dutch and him, things had seemed so different. The sky had gone on forever, time seemed infinite and they were invincible. Hosea conned and Dutch charmed and they robbed and scammed without a care in the world.<br/>
The way Dutch looked at him made his heart thud but he was ashamed of it. Hosea had heard stories of men taking to the west to be together, away from prying eyes or tittle tattle from bored housewives. He wasn't one of them. He liked women. He wasn't sure if Dutch did. He liked anyone who flattered him, man or woman but he never looked at anyone like he did Hosea...<br/>
Not until Arthur.<br/>
Hosea saw it all but turned a blind eye. He’d been spineless, he saw that now. He had thought only of himself.<br/>
<i>Things will work themselves out,</i> that’s what he’d told himself but they hadn’t and Dutch had changed and the darkness that had consumed him was slowly filling Arthur up, too. </p><p>Before long, Hosea wasn’t sure he recognised Dutch anymore. He was still him, in some ways; he still had the talk, the ideas, the passion for freedom but… there was something else. A monster that Hosea had facilitated and Arthur fed so willingly. Hosea didn’t know what to do any more. </p><p>You can package it up as love, and Hosea didn’t doubt that Dutch loved Arthur with everything, but he had been a troubled boy and Dutch should have known better.</p><p> </p><p>Hosea had buried his head in the sand, directing his energy into pouring his love into Bessie then John and then when Abigail gave birth, into Jack. He wondered if their lifestyle was right anymore. Is what they did, robbing and killing people… Was it worth it? All for some utopian dream? A dream that Hosea was beginning to doubt even existed.<br/>
Hosea told Lenny that it wasn't too late to get out, get a real job. Lenny was young and the world was changing, he had a chance. Young Abigail and Jack did too. John was half listening now, listening to when Hosea said that Arthur and Dutch were causes lost to themselves.</p><p> </p><p>At first, when John joined them, John had resented Dutch and Arthur’s relationship. He was jealous. He wanted attention, too. Attention from Arthur. He never said it but he looked up to Arthur like a brother and loved him dearly. He used to want to follow Arthur everywhere he went and became envious when Arthur would shake him off to spend time with Dutch alone.<br/>
“We're going fishing, you can't come with us.” Arthur had told him, Arthur was around eighteen or nineteen and John just twelve, of course he didn’t understand.<br/>
“It's not fair,” John said indignantly, “Hosea taught me to fish. I want to go fishin’ with you! I can do it!”<br/>
“Well you can't, it's not for kids.” Arthur retorted.<br/>
“I ain't a kid!”</p><p>Needless to say, John was never permitted to go with Arthur and Dutch. It took John a long time to realise that they weren't fishing together. After a while they even stopped taking fishing rods with them to keep up the pretense. After that, John didn't ask to go with them anymore. He wouldn't say it but from then, he resented Dutch. Dutch had taken Arthur away from him.</p><p> </p><p>John’s voice snapped Hosea out of his contemplation.<br/>
“Hosea… What’re we gonna do?” John asked. He stood beside Hosea at the table, his light brown eyes wrought with worry. The other members of the camp were starting to bustle around again but a horrid tension had settled like a smog over them all. Hosea knew that people were listening to them but maybe now, it didn't matter. Hosea had been waiting for the wheels to come off and it looked like they finally had.<br/>
Hosea swallowed before speaking to John, “there’s no time like the present. You should go. Take Abigail and Jack and go.”<br/>
“Hosea…” John started, he sounded shocked.<br/>
Hosea shook his head. “Arthur and Dutch... There’s nothin’ we can do an’ I’ve known that for a while. I just hoped… For Arthur’s sake…”</p><p>His eyes shone at they met John’s but his determination was greater than his sorrow. He rose from where he sat. He told John to wait while he went inside the old plantation house. When he returned, he had something clutched in his hand, as he got closer to John, John could see that it was a thick wad of cash.<br/>
“Take this, y’ll need it.” Hosea said, his voice was emotionless but his fingers touched John’s hand as he passed the money over, the touch lingered and John understood. John wasn’t an emotional man but he felt his voice catch in his throat.<br/>
“Hosea… That’s a lotta money.”<br/>
“I want you to have it. I won’t be needin’ it no more.”<br/>
“You’re talkin’ like you got one foot in the grave already!” John tried to joke but it was forced and their pair of them knew it.<br/>
“Sure feels like it.” Hosea replied.</p><p>John looked at the pile of cash, more than he’d ever had or maybe ever would. “Hosea…” He started again, uncertain.<br/>
“You’ll need it.” Hosea repeated firmly, “for Abigail and Jack… For your new life. John… It’s time to go.”<br/>
“What about you?”<br/>
Hosea smiled weakly, “I don’t think I’ll be needin’ it. Not as much as you, son.” </p><p>John stood dumbstruck for a moment. He looked back to the house and saw Abigail and Jack watching him out of the window. He had to stay loyal to what mattered. Hosea must have understood the look on his face as he patted him on the shoulder gently. “Go on. Don’t waste any more time, son."</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p>
  <i>The Devil</i>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>You can’t fight nature. You can’t fight gravity.</i>
</p><p>Dutch felt as if he stood before a roaring fire that was trying to swallow him whole.  As the lightning that forked in the sky above Dutch, he realised that it was him. It was all him and always had been.<br/>
The rain poured and thunder rumbled above and the fire burned stronger. Dutch didn’t know where he was. His hand gripped the revolver tighter. </p><p>
  <i>You can’t fight nature. You can’t fight gravity.</i>
</p><p>The muzzle of the revolver was cold pressed to his temple. He had to do it. If not now, when? When someone else got hurt? Hosea this time or John?</p><p>
  <i>Do it! Shoot! Shoot now! Do it! Spineless piece of shit you are. Do it, do it!</i>
</p><p>Dutch screamed into the storm, the wind taking his voice away. His hands shook, his finger rested on the trigger but for once, he couldn’t pull it.</p><p>
  <i>Pathetic coward.  Fool. Can’t even kill himself. Don't you want freedom? Peace for eternity? Truly being free of this world and it's taint, it's greed, it's hypocrisy... That's what you want. That's what you've always wanted. Freedom.</i>
</p><p>Maybe <i>this</i> was the freedom he'd been searching for for so long.  </p><p><i>Do it!</i><br/>
He cursed himself. Eyes squeezed shut. </p><p><i>Now or never.</i><br/>
The rain poured, the storm raged around him louder than ever, wind howling and the fire burned hotter than ever.</p><p>The trigger jammed. </p><p>Dutch opened his eyes.<br/>
<i>No, this isn't right. You're supposed to die. You're supposed to be free!</i></p><p>Hot tears were spilling from his dark eyes, he choked out more curses, falling to his hands and knees, the ground wet, muddy and slick beneath him. </p><p>A useless excuse of a man. No wonder this had happened, all of this, from the ferry to now. He hurt and destroyed everything he ever loved or cared for. It was all his fault. His nature. It was him, it had always been him. He could blame it on bounty hunters, on Pinkertons, lawmen or the way of the world but it was him who destroyed everything.</p><p> </p><p>A flash of lightning lit up his path momentarily and thunder grumbled in the distance, like the storm was moving away. </p><p>Dutch saw his father’s face - a face that resembled his own so closely that he was terrified that he was turning into him; each day he feared was becoming more and more like the cruel, sadistic man who had robbed him of his childhood. The man who abused him until Dutch was big enough to fight back, no longer cowering in fear when his father came home afraid of him removing his belt and lashing his back for the most trivial of things while his mother turned a blind eye and drank herself into a stupor or spent time with her lovers.</p><p>In the next bolt of lightning, he saw his mother’s face, too; she had been a cold, heartless woman who had never wanted children. She had turned him away when he returned home after he got word that his daddy died:  <i> “I can’t have you gettin’ under my feet! I ain’t got no time to be takin’ care of you, boy. Now go, get!”</i></p><p>Now he saw Hosea's handsome face.  He saw the way Hosea had looked at him the night they had kissed outside the saloon, the way Hosea had backed away from him in disgust and said <i>”I love you, Dutch, I do. Just…. not like this.”</i></p><p>He knew who he would see next. The boy he loved so dear. He closed his eyes again so he didn't have to. He didn't want to. He couldn't. He couldn't set eyes upon Arthur, his Arthur who had been sullied by O'Driscoll's because of him, because he had been careless and not loved him better.</p><p>The wind rustled the leaves of the trees and they seemed to hiss Dutch's name, calling out to him.<br/>
He rose to his feet. Eyes open now. The storm stopped. The fire didn't burn. It was calm. There was nothing but him and the Earth. A deafening silence shrouded him but name was still being called and he followed, like a sailor to the sea. He didn't know how long or how far he walked but his name got louder and louder as he did. </p><p>A sudden crack of lightning flashed again and there he saw Arthur; Arthur's beautiful face, bruised and bloodied, tears swimming in those great blue pools of eyes, staring up at Dutch, pleading.<br/>
<i>Why? Why did you let this happen to me?</i><br/>
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry son. I can be better. I can do better. Please... Forgive me."</p><p>He saw the faceless O'Driscoll's. The crimson erupt from Colm's chest. Arthur's small, broken body. That boy who had whispered to him <i>can I stay with you.</i> The boy he had betrayed by being the man he had feared that he would become. A monster. The devil itself. </p><p>Arthur's eyes turned cold and dark and Dutch didn't recognise him anymore.  <i>"It's too late Dutch, the damage is done.</i></p><p> </p><p>Arthur didn’t know if The Count understood him but the horse walked him towards Valentine and passed it. Arthur was too tired to guide, too tired to track but somehow he trusted that the Arabian knew where they were going. Arthur drifted in and out of a strange fevered dream, one where he was running, running from Colm, towards Dutch but Dutch was always a little too far ahead for him to reach. Arthur screamed for Dutch but no sound left his lips.</p><p>Arthur awoke when he felt the gentle sway of the horse stop. The Count was standing outside of a  small, dark wood cabin which was buried in a treeline. Arthur didn’t know where they were, the rain had stopped too but he could still hear the rushing of water and a train in the distance. There were mountains around them, an elk calling echoed and from all the noise that Arthur had in his head earlier, he suddenly felt calm. He knew Dutch was inside the cabin.<br/>
He slid from the saddle, his legs felt weak beneath him. Tentatively, he walked towards the cabin door which was ajar. He pushed it open to reveal a fairly empty cabin, it looked like no one had lived there for a long time. The only thing in the cabin was Dutch.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. For Better of For Worse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He watched helplessly as Dutch straightened himself up, smoothed his hair down and headed for the door of the cabin. He turned back for a moment and smiled at Arthur, “I got a plan. This is a good one.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>((It's almost 3am here so this is badly edited but I was too excited about posting this final chapter to care! I'll come back later and catch typos etc!))</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been spring. Arthur was twenty-one. Mary’s twentieth birthday was coming up. Arthur had known her father was doing his best to bully her into getting married, into making an honest woman out of her. Arthur suspected deep down that Mary’s father was more interested in any sort of money she’d be marrying into rather than anything else. Arthur was certain he could look after Mary, sure the way he made money might have been dishonest sometimes but this was America and green was green no matter which way you got it. </p><p>Arthur didn’t know why he did it. He knew, deep down inside that it wouldn’t work; he knew that Mary’s father hated him and that he could be the richest man on the planet but that man would never allow him to have her hand in marriage. Another part of Arthur knew that he was considering proposing to her for the wrong reasons; he wanted to hurt Dutch, he wanted to show Dutch that he wasn’t to be taken for granted and that he could leave any time he wanted.</p><p>He had saved for months to buy a ring he’d seen. Arthur came across many pretty rings on his travels but he knew that he’d feel guilty if he gave Mary a ring looted from some gunslinger or bandit.<br/>
Arthur had taken Mary on the back of his horse for a ride into the countryside. He’d found a nice little spot on a hill that overlooked a lake where he thought he’d ask her to marry him.<br/>
He didn’t get down on one knee, too embarrassed to do so. He produced the ring however and said the words he’d been repeating over and over in his head all day.<br/>
“Mary Gillis, would you marry me?”</p><p>She’d looked at him with her great, sorrowful brown eyes and sighed, “oh Arthur....” She said that a lot and Arthur knew that whatever she said next wouldn’t be good. “Arthur… I care for you, you know I do but I can’t marry you. My daddy…”<br/>
Arthur rolled his eyes, “I figured your daddy would have something to do with it.”<br/>
“Oh Arthur, you know how he is!” Mary protested.<br/>
“Oh, I know all too well how he is, Mary but it ain’t him I intend to marry now, is it?”<br/>
“You know it ain’t simple like that.” Mary retorted.<br/>
Arthur knew it wasn’t simple. I wasn’t ever going to be. Even if Mary accepted and he got the fairy tale ending - married the girl, bought a ranch and pretended that he didn’t rob and kill for a living in a past life, Arthur knew that he’d never be truly happy with Mary. Was it what he <i>really</i> wanted? A little wife to come home to every night? She’d never satisfy him like Dutch, never love him like Dutch and Arthur would never satisfy nor love her like he would Dutch. No, Arthur belonged by Dutch’s side.</p><p>“Keep the ring,” he told her after taking her home. He didn’t want it as a reminder of how stupid he’d been. He didn’t turn back to look at her as he rode away. He rode slow but his mind raced.<br/>
He’d argued with Dutch, told him he intended to propose to Mary. He’d been angry that Dutch hadn’t seemed to care.<br/>
“At least Mary cares about me!” Arthur had snapped in front of everyone in camp the night before.<br/>
Dutch had laughed hollowly, “does she? Or do you think she’ll leave you the second a more <i>civilised</i> man crosses her path? She’s playin’ with you, boy and you’re too stupid to see!”<br/>
It made Arthur even more determined to marry Mary.</p><p>Dutch was waiting for him in his tent. He knew as soon Arthur shuffled into the tent, his head hanging in embarrassment what had happened. He didn’t need Arthur to speak but he did: “She don’t want me.”<br/>
“She ain’t no good for you, son. I told you so many times… But you wouldn’t listen.” Dutch replied. He rose from where he was seated and went to Arthur.<br/>
Arthur turned away from Dutch. He’d gone to him for comfort but knew he’d be chastised for his decisions. He knew he’d been stupid and pigheaded.<br/>
“Arthur,” Dutch said softly. Arthur turned to look a Dutch. They were around the same height now. Dutch’s amber eyes shimmered as they met Arthur’s. He reached for Arthur’s face, the metal of his rings cool against Arthur’s cheek. Arthur let Dutch tilt his head up and he caught Dutch’s lips in a kiss.<br/>
“It’ll be us, it’ll always be us. You know that.”<br/>
“Will it?” Arthur asked, sounding small.<br/>
“I ain’t ever gonna leave you, son. Don’t you forget that.”</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>The weather was worsening. Just after Javier, Sadie and Charles left the camp, the wind began to pick up followed by rain. Charles was able to track for a little while but the rain began to pour and any tracks they could have found dissolved into mud on the trail.<br/>
“Maybe we should go back?” Sadie called to the other two over the sound of the foreboding storm.<br/>
“No,” Charles replied firmly, “Arthur wouldn’t give up on us, we can’t give up on him.”<br/>
Charles was right, of course. Arthur would have done it for them without hesitation. </p><p>Sadie was doing this for Arthur, not Dutch. Initially Dutch had shown kindness, pulling a blanket around her bare shoulders and taking her in when her house burnt to the ground with her husband’s corpse left to rot in the snow. in just a few weeks, Sadie had seen that man disappear before her eyes, if he had ever really been there at all.<br/>
He prowled the camp like a caged lion most days, snappy and irritable. Sadie never saw him leave the camp and pull his weight like Arthur, Charles or even Sean; she’d heard Dutch use some excuse about being wanted all over West Elizabeth, as if Arthur wasn’t. Then there was that business with Miss O’Shea… He’d been cruel to her, not only had he used her until he got bored but he then forced her to leave the gang; a woman who couldn’t defend herself in a food fight let alone against people like the O’Driscolls or Lemoyne Raiders. Sadie wished she’d done more, wished she’d stepped in and stopped Dutch from being so heartless. </p><p>She didn’t understand how Dutch could be so cold to Molly yet his love for Arthur was obvious and endless...<br/>
Sadie didn't understand why everyone felt indebted to Dutch; he had saved Arthur a long time ago and since then he'd done what? Gotten him into more and more trouble - robberies, murders and bounties. Maybe Sadie would never understand.<br/>
Hosea had warned her that Arthur was complicated but she guessed she never truly knew how much. It was apparent that Arthur and Dutch were in a relationship of some sort, even someone without eyes could see that. Whether it was wrong for two men to be that way, what did it matter who Arthur slept with at night?<br/>
Dutch aside, Sadie was doing it for Arthur. </p><p>The rain came down like bullets and the wind whipped around them as they pushed on blindly. Eventually, they found the body of Arthur's horse with a gunshot to the head just north of Scarlett Meadows.<br/>
Charles and Javier exchanged worried glances.<br/>
“Do you think he's..?” Sadie started but didn’t finish.<br/>
Charles shook his head, “tracks. He's on foot from here. He won't be able to get very far. Let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>**** </p><p>Dutch looked disheveled, muddied and wet from the rain. He looked small, curled up on the floor of the cabin, shrouded in darkness with his back to Arthur. Arthur had never seen him like this, he’d seen him sad before like the night he returned from town after Hosea told him that he wanted to leave the gang but this was different. </p><p>Arthur went to him, he had to, his heart trembled in his chest as he fell to his knees beside the man he loved and scooped him up in his arms.Dutch gasped at Arthur’s touch. He breathed Arthur’s name and he melted into Arthur’s touch. He sobbed.</p><p>As much as the fever burned in Arthur, as much as he felt so weak, he suddenly found strength stirring in his stomach, like he was overcome with a <i>need</i> to nurture Dutch the way Dutch had nurtured him for the past twenty years.<br/>
The pair held each other. Dutch's arms around Arthur's body and he clung to him in a way he never has before. Arthur could feel him shaking.<br/>
He breathed Dutch's name pressing his forehead to the older man's and for what seemed like a lifetime, they sat like that on the floor of the dark cabin. Dutch held him like if he let go, he'd lose him forever; Arthur could feel Dutch's fingers curled around the material of his shirt just like Arthur used to do when he went to Dutch's tent, afraid at night all those years ago. </p><p>Arthur brought his hands up to Dutch’s face, he cupped his face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears that spilled from his dark eyes.<br/>
Seeing Dutch so fragile and small was unprecedented, almost frighteningly so.<br/>
“Why’d you go?” Arthur asked him, voice soft.</p><p>Dutch didn’t answer. He closed his eyes tight as if trying to make Arthur’s question go away.<br/>
“Dutch…” Arthur’s fingers laced with the soft, dark tresses of Dutch’s hair. He felt Dutch soften at his touch.<br/>
He opened his eyes again, holding Arthur’s gaze and whispered, “you shouldn’t have come for me, son.” He looked different, eyes wild and afraid. Arthur had never seen him like this before.<br/>
“I… I couldn’t leave you.” Arthur replied, a little taken aback, “Dutch… Hosea’s… Hosea’s telling people to leave!”<br/>
Dutch inhaled deeply before composing himself a little. He blinked back his tears and some of the Dutch that Arthur recognised looked back at him.<br/>
“I know.” Dutch said simply, his eyes as sorrowful as Mary’s had been the day Arthur asked her to marry him. </p><p>"He's scared and I don't blame him," Dutch continued. "The world is a net closin’ in on us. I’ve known that for a while.”<br/>
“You never let us down before,” Arthur said gently. And he was right; everything the world had thrown at them, Dutch had managed to get them out of. Everything but Blackwater.<br/>
“There's a first time for everything, Arthur. I'm tired. I'm tired of running and looking over my shoulder. I'm tired of being afraid of losing you." His voice cracked when he said the word <i>afraid</i><br/>
“You won't lose me.” Arthur replied quickly, almost allowing himself to laugh.<br/>
“I nearly did. And it was my fault.” </p><p>There was a silence between the pair. Arthur’s shoulder still burned with pain every time he moved and when he closed his eyes he saw that O’Driscoll forcing his cock into his mouth.<br/>
“You couldn'ta known-”<br/>
Dutch brought his hands to Arthur's face now, "my sweet boy. I love you as much as the day is long. You are everything to me. But all things must come to an end."<br/>
“I don’t understand what you’re sayin’... Dutch, just come back to camp with me. It’s been a tough few days… You jus’ need to rest and then you’ll be thinkin’ clearly again, I know it.”</p><p>Dutch didn’t speak again for a few minutes, he sat back from Arthur now, his expression taking on a darkness that was familiar to Arthur. Arthur had the feeling that it wasn’t for lack of words that he didn’t speak but for lack of how best to say it. </p><p>“I've been thinkin’ a whole lot.” Dutch said finally. His voice was quiet yet commanding. “I've been thinking back to the beginnin’ of this whole nightmare. Thinkin’ of when we were happy, all those times you been in my arms with your face in the crook of my neck. Those were the times I felt invincible; the world couldn’t touch us… Not with you at my side, not with me protectin’ you from everyone… From those that doubted or didn’t understand…”<br/>
Arthur chewed on his bottom lip, not sure how to respond. He was starting to feel hazy again.<br/>
“When you cried out, I took the pain away and crushed those who hurt you. You…. You looked at me so true and <i>believed</i> in me, believed I could do anything, Arthur. Your faith, your loyalty… Your<i>devotion</i> was all I needed.”<br/>
“I’m still all of those things, Dutch.” Came Arthur’s reply, as swiftly as always.<br/>
“I know, son.”</p><p>It wasn’t perfect, never had been. They had just been younger and dumber.  Dutch knew his feelings didn't betray him;  he had loved Arthur and in loving him, he felt safe in turn. The world wasn't so frightening or chaotic. With Arthur at his side, the passion Arthur felt for Dutch, the unshakable faith and love and adoration, the way that Arthur would <i>fight</i> to protect them… Dutch found it intoxicating. Arthur’s love swallowed him in a way nothing else ever had and Dutch had allowed himself to be consumed.<br/>
In the end it wasn't about sex or power. Just loyalty and love. They always found their way back to one another. Like an echo. For better or worse, they found each other. For some reason, it always seemed to be for worse. </p><p>“My monster feeds your monster.” Dutch said with a hint of finality about his tone.<br/>
Arthur was shaking his head again in a way that reminded Dutch of the young boy he had once been and the young boy he had destroyed to make the monster that he was.<br/>
“I don’t understand, Dutch,” he said again, sounding frustrated now.<br/>
“I can’t protect you no more.” Dutch said softly, sounding almost guilty, his eyes no longer holding Arthur’s.<br/>
“I don’t need protectin’!”<br/>
“You shouldn’t have come for me, son.”<br/>
“Dutch!” Arthur cried sounding exasperated, there were hot tears of fury building behind his eyes now. “Stop talkin’ like this… I... I don’t like it!”</p><p>Dutch moved back to Arthur, cupping the younger man’s beautiful face in his hands and pressing their lips together in a kiss. Countless kisses they had shared but this one felt different, the way Dutch’s mouth fit to Arthur's as if it were made for him, the way their bodies rested in each other's arms as if there were only them… As if the world was ending. Arthur kissed back hard, despite the fog in his head or the pain in his shoulder. He wanted to show Dutch that nothing had changed, nothing had changed since all this <i>shit</i> with the O’Driscolls. He still loved Dutch, nothing could change that. He could taste the copper tang of blood, felt Dutch’s moustache scratch against his skin, felt the clash of teeth. Dutch’s breath, Dutch’s touch, Dutch...</p><p>“Dutch Van der Linde! We know you’re in there. Come out now and we won't have to use any unnecessary force!”</p><p>The pair in the cabin froze.<br/>
“Pinkertons,” Dutch breathed, eyes darting to the door of the cabin.<br/>
Arthur’s bright eyes flashed, "how did they know you were here?"<br/>
"I don't know," Dutch replied. For the first time in a long time, Dutch looked scared.<br/>
They sat in a dumbfounded silence for a moment.</p><p>“Dutch Van der Linde, this is agent Milton. I implore you to come out. Now!”</p><p>“What are we gonna do?” Arthur asked Dutch in a hushed tone trying not to sound as fearful as he was.<br/>
Dutch held Arthur’s gaze for what felt like an eternity. “It’s me they want.”<br/>
“Dutch, no. I won’t allow it!” Arthur said, his voice low and urgent. He was cut off by Dutch pressing his lips to Arthur’s again, kissing in a way Arthur had never felt before; slow and mournful. Arthur let him, not wanting this kiss to end because he knew in his gut, this would be the last time.</p><p>“Son, let me do the right thing, for once. Let me protect you.” He whispered, pulling away from Arthur.<br/>
“Dutch…” Arthur’s voice cracked. “We can get out of this, we always get out of everything…! After this, we can go - jus’ you and me like you always said!”<br/>
Dutch swallowed, amber eyes shining. “If they got me, you’ll be free Arthur.”<br/>
Arthur shook his head hard, tears stinging in his eyes.”I don’t wanna be free if i ain’t with you!”<br/>
Dutch stifled a laugh. “You ain’t never gonna be free if you keep following me, Arthur Morgan.”</p><p>“You have exactly ten seconds before we shoot, Mr Van der Linde.”</p><p>“I love you, Dutch.”<br/>
A pained expression ghosted across Dutch’s face before he replied, “and I love you, son. But often, it’s the people closest to us who hurt us the most.”</p><p>“<i>Ten.”</i></p><p>“I won’t let you do this.” Arthur repeated, struggling to get to his feet but he was sweating badly now, feeling as weak as he had at the O’Driscoll’s ranch.</p><p>
  <i>“Nine.”</i>
</p><p>“I can give you the time you need to get out of here,” Dutch was saying, ignoring Arthur's words.</p><p>
  <i>“Eight.”</i>
</p><p>“There’s a back door. Go through it and take off into the woods, they don’t know you’re with me an’ it’s my horse out front.” It was like a switch had been flicked inside of him because he suddenly spoke with authority, with certainty, like he was delegating tasks in a bank robbery. </p><p>
  <i>“Seven”</i>
</p><p>“Don’t do this.” Arthur said, his voice scarcely a whimper. Hot tears rolled miserably down his cheeks. “You don’t need to.”</p><p>
  <i>“Six.”</i>
</p><p>“I want to, Arthur. Please, let me do something good for you… For once.”</p><p>“<i>Five.”</i></p><p>Dutch rose to his feet.<br/>
“Dutch!”</p><p>
  <i>“Four.”</i>
</p><p>“There ain’t a thing we haven’t gotten out of before! Are you mad?!”<br/>
Dutch chuckled darkly, “maybe I am.”</p><p>
  <i>“Three.”</i>
</p><p>Arthur got shakily to his feet too. The world spun and his eyes were becoming unfocused.<br/>
He watched helplessly as Dutch straightened himself up, smoothed his hair down and headed for the door of the cabin. He turned back for a moment and smiled at Arthur, “I got a plan. This is a good one.”</p><p>
  <i>“Two.”</i>
</p><p>“Gentlemen!” Dutch greeted the Pinkertons as he strode out of the cabin into the night, as if they were girl scouts knocking on the door to sell cookies. “What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”</p><p>Arthur stood, rooted to the spot, stunned. What plan, he wanted to shout after Dutch but his mouth had gone dry. </p><p>“Cut the crap, Van der Linde!”<br/>
Arthur recognised the voice to be one of the Pinkerton agents he’d met that day with little Jack by the river.<br/>
“You know why we’re here.”<br/>
“I assure you, I most certainly do not,” Dutch retorted. He spoke, as he always did, with charisma, a hint of mirth behind each word as if he was enjoying this.<br/>
“Hands where we can see ‘em Van der Linde!”</p><p>Arthur crouched and made his way to the small window at the front of the cabin. He peered out of it to see Dutch with his back to him, hands raised. Before him were at least two dozen lawmen and Pinkertons all pointing their guns at him.</p><p>“Are you gonna come with us quietly, Mr Van der Linde, or are we gonna have to do things the hard way?” The man Arthur recognised to be Agent Milton asked him. He was standing directly in front of Dutch. He didn’t have his gun raised but he wore a look of hideous smugness, a twisted smirk playing across his lips. "Honestly, it doesn't bother me either way. Of course I would prefer to do things the <i>civilised</i> way but I know you have... Issues with that."
<br/><br/>
Dutch allowed himself to laugh. It was loud and sounded harsh in the clearing before the cabin.
“You’re fightin’ nature, Agent Milton,” Dutch said, addressing all of the lawmen as if he were Macbeth and the lawmen his stage, “my whole life, I tried to fight change. It’s a waste… I… I see that now. It’s a waste. You can’t fight nature, Agent Milton. You can’t fight change. Lord knows I’ve tried. But all it has done is generate more and more pain and suffering and I am tired of it all.”</p><p>Arthur swallowed. He didn’t know where this was going, didn’t know what this plan of Dutch’s was but he hoped that whatever it was, Dutch got on with it quickly.<br/>
Arthur saw some of the lawmen exchanging puzzled glances but Milton’s lifeless eyes stayed glaring at Dutch.<br/>
“You can’t fight nature, you can’t fight change… You can’t fight gravity.”<br/>
“Enough of this!” Milton snapped and with that he drew his pistol.</p><p>If it had taken Agent Milton four seconds to draw his gun from his holster and unload all the bullets in the chamber into Dutch’s chest then it took Arthur five seconds to watch it.<br/>
He saw Dutch’s body judder with each bullet, stepping backwards at the force of it. The metal tore right through him, blood staining the back of his red satin waistcoat a deep crimson. For a moment or two, he remained standing, looking at Agent Milton.<br/>
Arthur heard him let out a shaky laugh, “you can’t fight gravity.” He repeated. With that, he fell to his knees then crumpled forwards onto the ground.</p><p>Arthur wanted to scream, wanted to run out and go to him but he could barely support his own weight anymore. He gripped the window frame, eyes fixed on Dutch’s body.<br/>
Milton strolled over to him, nudging him with the tip of his boot to see if he was dead. Dutch was motionless. Arthur couldn’t see his face and wasn’t sure if he wanted to. He let out a sob and slid down the wall of the cabin.<br/>
He didn’t care if they came in for him next. Without Dutch, he didn’t want to be free. He didn’t want to live. </p><p>He heard hooves approaching fast. There was a sudden shower of bullets. People were shouting, “take cover, he’s got reinforcements!”<br/>
The few trees that surrounded the cabin didn’t make for the best cover, Arthur knew that much and as quickly as the gunfire had started, it ceased. Quick footsteps came into the cabin.<br/>
“He’s in here!” Someone shouted. He recognised that voice. He was lifted off of the cabin floor. “You’re gonna be ok, Arthur.” It was Charles Smith. </p><p>Outside the dawn was beginning to break. Arthur could see the sun coming up over the mountains to the east. It was so still. The bodies of the Pinkertons and lawmen lay scattered around but Arthur's mind was buzzing.<br/>
“Dutch.” Arthur breathed. Charles didn’t say anything to him. He placed him on his horse and mounted up.<br/>
“It’s too late. He’s gone.” Arthur heard someone else say, Javier Escuella.<br/>
“What should we do?” Sadie Adler.<br/>
“We take his body back and bury him.” Charles answered simply. </p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>It was strange to go back north. Sadie’s home had been burned to the ground but Charles and Javier helped her rebuild the house that she used to share with her husband.<br/>
In the daytime they would build and in the evening, they went back down to Colter, where it all began, to rest. Arthur spent most of his days recovering from his infected wound there, they had made him as comfortable and as warm as possible. They took it in turns to care for him through his fever and delirium. He called out Dutch’s name and sobbed into the night when he regained consciousness and remembered what had happened at Cumberland Forest.</p><p>They had initially ridden back to Shady Belle but it looked like the law had gotten there before them.<br/>
Young Lenny and Sean’s bodies lay curled up, bloodied and lifeless at the horse hitching station. Lenny’s hand slipped into Sean’s as if they had comforted each other before their final breaths.<br/>
Miss Grimshaw lay face down by the main door to the plantation house, several gunshot wounds to her back.</p><p>They buried all three of them and Dutch before quickly moving on.</p><p>When Charles had headed into Strawberry for supplies, he had heard that they had captured Hosea. Sadie wondered what his reaction would have been when they told him about Dutch. Maybe he had been too far gone to care at that point. Sadie had always liked Hosea but felt there was a coldness to him that maybe wouldn’t have been there even a year before all of this. A life of hardship, of people gunning after you will do that to you.<br/>
They hung him in Blackwater about a week later. Without Dutch or the rest of the gang, they had little use for him anymore. </p><p>It was Javier who overheard a conversation in a saloon in Valentine one day that it had been Micah who had caused all of this. It didn't surprise any of them. Micah had been working with the O’Driscolls and had conjured up the plan to grab Arthur and use him as bait only after that went wrong, he had to think on his feet. He slipped away to report to the Pinkertons and told them the new camp location. They were sitting ducks.<br/>
It had been unlucky that they’d managed to track Arthur and Dutch to the cabin. It seemed like many people got away in the crossfire, escaping out of the back of the plantation house and into the swamps and probably beyond into Saint Denis - from there they could take a train to anywhere and change their name. Sadie hoped they had gotten a train as far as they could and never looked back<br/>
“Hear Marston goes by Jim Milton now,” Javier said with a sneer one night when he, Sadie and Charles sat around playing cards and drinking whiskey.<br/>
“At least he got away,” Charles replied.<br/>
“He left us,” Javier said coldly. “If he’d been at Shady Belle to protect the others, well, who knows.”<br/>
“Who knows indeed,” Charles retorted, “then we might have had to bury even more bodies, including Abigail and Jack, is that what you want?”<br/>
“Boys, calm down.” Sadie snapped. “I ain’t in the mood for squabblin’. Now drink your whiskey and get to bed.”</p><p>After the house was built, Charles moved on to Canada and Javier to Mexico. Arthur stayed though. He was a free man with no place to go. There was no place for the likes of him out West any more and East was full of terrible memories. Sadie liked the company though he didn’t speak much anymore and that look in his eye had become more than sad, it was distant and cold.<br/>
“You alright?” She asked him one evening when he returned with firewood.<br/>
“Huh?” He grunted, as if shee were barely there and maybe to him, she wasn't.<br/>
<br/>
“You… Wanna talk about it?” Sadie asked, she’d never been good at being a sympathetic shoulder to cry on.<br/>
Arthur shook his head, not once looking at Sadie, as if dismissing a bad thought. “I better get back to it,” he murmured and disappeared out of the front door again, trudging through the snow. 

Sadie watched after him, even after Arthur was consumed by the darkness of the night. He’d already been consumed. One night he’d gotten drunk, let down his guard and told Sadie that he wished he’d died with Dutch. Now he was more ghost than human.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the end! Thank you so much to all of you who have stuck by this fic, who have commented, gave kudos or feedback. I hope you enjoyed it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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